Phantom Pains
by Noilascael
Summary: It's been a long, hard road, but Frisk finally was able to get the monsters out from the Underground and onto the surface. However, just because she got them their happy ending doesn't mean it will stay that way. It's up to Frisk to protect it, even as she suffers from the pains and nightmares of the past.
1. Chapter 1 - 12:03

Chapter 1

Frisk awoke with a start, a cold sweat already forming on her forehead, beading along her eyebrows before dripping down and stinging her eyes. She pushed herself up from her bed with shaky arms, mopping at her face with the sleeves of her pajamas, and glanced at the clock.

12:03.

It had only taken two hours this time, she thought with a groan, taking in great gulps of air in an attempt to calm herself down. It didn't work especially well. But then, nothing really helped. The nightmares always came.

 _Good_ , some small part of herself said. She pushed that to the back of her mind, instead looked around her room, letting the comfort and familiarity bring her back. It was much like the room that Toriel had given her, back in the Ruins, when they'd first met; when Toriel had built her new home on the surface, she had largely replicated her house (again). Frisk loved everything about it, but sometimes the sheer sameness of it would throw her off, make her forget where, or when, she was, if just for an instant.

She loved living with Toriel. Just thinking about her new life was helping to settle her down, and a soft smile began to form on her lips, looking at the dresser covered with pictures of her friends and family, at souvenirs from the Underground. They hadn't been on the Surface long, only a few months, and there were still many hardships in store, but they'd taken the first steps together. They'd gotten their happy ending. And Frisk would never let anything happen to it.

She got out of her bed, pushing aside the pastel-striped comforter and sheets and landing barefoot on the carpeted floor. A couple of stuffed animals sat on her bed, both gifts; the soft robin's egg blue of the big bunny matched the paint, while the bright yellow of the bear made a nice companion. She plodded over to her door, being careful not to make too much noise, and opened it with a slight creak. She used to wince at the various groans of the house before, worried that she'd wake Toriel, but eventually realized that she was quite a sound sleeper. That was good; Frisk didn't want to bother her. She was so busy; Toriel didn't need Frisk's childish problems placed onto her.

Besides, these were Frisk's burdens to bear.

She tiptoed up to Toriel's door, open just a crack, and placed her ear to the opening with a held breath; all she could hear was the steady rhythm of Toriel in slumber and the occasional squeak of the mattress. Frisk couldn't help but grin; she'd been so surprised, back at the cliffs when they'd first gotten out. The sun was blazing, casting waves of gold on the mountain as all of the monsters began heading down one by one, until only Toriel and Frisk were left. She'd been considering what would come next; and then Toriel had asked her. Asked if she had somewhere to go.

Without thinking, Frisk had answered, soft and hesitant, "I want . . . to stay with you." She hadn't meant to say it, hadn't planned it; it had just come out. She had always been a quiet child, never liked to talk much; speaking was dangerous, scary. When she'd first started to interact with everyone in the Underground, many had thought she was mute. But she'd said those words to Toriel. I want to stay with you. And it was true, so true. She had nowhere else to go. She'd never go back to . . .

Toriel's overwhelming joy had been a surprise. After everything that had happened, Frisk had thought that Toriel would go off on her own as well. Leave her there on the mountain and go live the life that she'd been dreaming of. Frisk wouldn't have blamed her. After denying her and leaving her there at the Ruins, Frisk thought that Toriel would never want to speak to her again. She never called or answered, after all. But she'd come at the end. And she wanted to share her life with her, and Frisk could only bury her face in Toriel's robes and thank her from the bottom of her heart, barely restrained tears threatening to pour from her eyes. She didn't know why she was so lucky, but she still felt that this was a dream, too good to be true; did she really deserve this wonderful life?

Whether she did or didn't, she would defend Toriel's happiness, along with everyone else's. Satisfied, Frisk tiptoed over to the bathroom, flicking on the lightswitch, eyes squinting at the sudden flash. She closed the door carefully and stepped over to the sink, head poking over the counter. Her wispy brown hair fell around her, tousled from rolling in bed, and her matching warm brown eyes were a little red from lack of sleep, but it was still her. Dark bags had started to form under her eyelids, and Frisk rubbed at them before turning on the cold water, splashing some on her face. The icy water made her tense a bit as it hit her face, but after getting used to the shock, it felt good to wash her face, and she cupped her hands together to get a drink. This was a ritual that had become all too comfortable lately, but it was better than troubling any of the others. It was just her and Toriel here, but the others all lived nearby; the monsters had build a small village near Mt. Ebott after being freed, many preferring to stay close by during these early days, and it seemed a good idea to Frisk. She was glad to have all of her friends and family close by anyway; Papyrus and Sans were next door, and Undyne and Alphys were a stone's throw away, relatively. Asgore lived across the neighborhood, and while Mettaton was often out touring, he visited Napstablook often down the block. There were still tensions with the humans nearby and at large, but Frisk had done her part as the monster ambassador (Asgore and Toriel did the actual hard work). She was honored that Asgore had asked, though the importance and weight of the position had not been lost on her. She felt that she'd done well enough though, and it gave her something important to do. Ever since coming out, she'd found it hard to concentrate on things, and she found many of the usual activities that would have normally captivated her simply . . . didn't. Her attention slid off of them like ice.

Maybe there was something wrong with her?

She snickered at the thought as she turned the water off.

Frisk grabbed the fluffy towel nearby to dry herself off with a sigh. She had a busy day in store tomorrow; she'd promised to help Monster Kid and some of his friends with some kind of construction project they were working on (a treehouse maybe?) and then she needed to make the rounds around Very New Home (or just Ebott, that worked too) and make sure everyone was doing all right. She had to make sure that everything was perfect; if anyone got hurt or killed, she needed to go back as soon as possible.

She began to get the aches and pains again, all over; grim reminders of past timelines and failed attempts at talking down the monsters. Sometimes it was just headaches that would blossom into migraines, and sometimes it was closer to phantom pains; she'd feel for her leg, just to make sure it was in one piece, check and make sure her arm wasn't broken.

These were her burdens to bear as well.

Turning the light off as she left the bathroom, she made her way back to her room, laying down on the bed and trying to will herself back to sleep. Uncomfortable images and scenes played in her head like an unwanted movie, endlessly repeating days with no happy end in sight. But Frisk was determined; this would be the happy ending. She could do this for them.

Eventually, she fell into a fitful sleep. It wouldn't be the last time this night.


	2. Chapter 2 - But Even So

Probably should have said this in the first part but hi. This is my first story, so thanks for reading! I don't really plan things out especially well so we'll see how it goes. Maybe it's something I'll work on?

Chapter 2 - But Even So

Frisk woke to what felt like a drum solo being played on her skull with sledgehammers, and rather than get up and start her morning like usual, she instead gave herself a rare break and simply let the waves of nausea and color wash over her as the morning sun began to stream in past her parted curtains. Frisk was usually up early, getting ready for the day, and she sometimes considered it a competition with Toriel to see who could make who breakfast. It was silly, but there was nothing wrong with a little silliness.

It must've been close to six or seven, judging by the light; she would have checked the clock, but she was pretty sure that her head would fall off if she moved it. And besides, her pillow was nice and cool, so why not just zone out for a bit? Watch the patterns and colors vibrate past her eyes and decorate the ceiling. Maybe Napstablook had it right all this time. Minus the feeling like garbage, mind. Frisk wasn't as big of a fan of that part, though Napstablook seemed to be doing better these days.

Gradually, the hammers began to slow down, and Frisk risk rolling out of bed, landing on shaky feet. It still hurt, but it was manageable now. She risked a look at the clock: 8:52. Snap. She hadn't taken this long to get out of bed . . . ever.

Well, first things first; she needed to get cleaned up. Grabbing a pair of shorts and a blue and white striped shirt, long-sleeved despite the recent rise in temperature, she headed back to the bathroom, noticing the sounds of Toriel busy in the kitchen. She'd probably been up for a couple of hours already by this point. Looks like she won . . . this round.

The bright yellow rubber ducky on the side of the tub called to Frisk this time, the bath toy left ignored last night, but as much as his wide grin called to her, Frisk wanted to get going, so a bath was out of the question. A quick, hot shower would be fine.

She stripped down and turned the bright chrome handles, stepping in as the hot water struck her skin, and let out a contented sigh; she could practically feel the aches and tensions wash off, trickling into the drain. She pulled the curtain closed; it was decorated with various ocean fish swimming around (Frisk's favorite was the angel fish, though the sea horse might have been a close second). She closed her eyes and leaned into the stream, her hair plastering onto her face, and pulled her arms in to collect the water. She spared a glance down, eyeing the many marks on her skin. Scars from so many cuts, burns, beatings – she closed her eyes again and felt a shiver run down her despite the hot water. She added more heat, hoping to drown it out. This was going to be a good day. It would be good.

She kept telling herself that as she washed her hair and rinsed the shampoo out, and started to believe it after she'd turned the water off and toweled herself dry. She ran a hand over her hair, feeling the strands pass through her fingers, one by one. A fleeting moment, and then Frisk was pulling her shirt on over her head, and all of the marks of the past were covered by bright stripes running down her collar, followed by a pair of blue shorts that cut off above her knees. A quick tooth brushing later, and Frisk was hopping into the kitchen, ready to start her day.

"Well, hello, sweet one. Did you sleep well?" Toriel asked, turning from the counter. Her voice was sweet and her smile was warm, and Frisk couldn't help but both giggle and wiggle as she spoke. Toriel was brighter than the sun, lighting up every day, and again Frisk thought about how lucky she was to be with her, to belong here. She loved all of her new family and friends, but Toriel was the center of her solar system, the star she revolved around. She could still remember the feel of her hand in Toriel's paw, being led through the Ruins, still smell that first slice of cinnamon-butterscotch pie, still taste the fizzle of the fire magic used to bake it. If only she could speak as easily as she could spare. If only the words didn't spoil on her tongue and taste like lies. If only she could tell Mom how important she was.

But she couldn't. Not yet, at least. Maybe not ever. But she could show it in other ways. In the enthusiastic nod of her head, and the energy with which she launched herself into Toriel's robes and wrapped her arms around her in a tight embrace.

Her Mom was the best.

"Oh my, Frisk! Come here!" Toriel picked her up, twirling her before holding her close, and Frisk buried herself in Toriel's neck, planting a kiss on her cheek before she was let down. Toriel replied in kind as she spoke, "I love you as well, my child. And I'll take that as a yes!" Uh, sure, let's go with that. "Would you like something to eat?"

Another nod.

"Wonderful! I have prepared pancakes for us," Toriel reached for the plate of flapjacks, setting the fluffy cakes onto the table along with a small bottle of syrup; neither of them were especially big fans of butter, so that stayed in the fridge. The scent of cinnamon filled Frisk's nostrils, likely mixed into the pancakes, and Frisk was very glad that there were (apparently) no snails in them. She sat down in one of the big chairs next to Toriel and gave a silent thanks for the meal before passing the plate to Toriel to give her first dibs before taking a pair of them for herself, coating them with the thick maple syrup.

"So, you're going to check up on the neighborhood this morning, yes?" Toriel asked as Frisk took a big bite. She again nodded an affirmation, spinning her finger in place to further clarify: _yes, but I'll likely cover the surrounding blocks as well._

"Oh, more? Well, just be sure to be careful. And bring plenty to drink! It's been quite hot lately. Maybe short sleeves would be better?"

Frisk shrugged her shoulders with a smile; she'd be fine, but she appreciated the concern. She pointed at Toriel, her head cocked to the side, an eyebrow raised: a question. _What about you?_

 _"_ Me?" Frisk nodded with a slight _mm-hmm_. "Well, I figured I would run to the store today and get some ingredients; I promised to help the Monster Scouts with their upcoming bake sale, so best to get started!" That was very much like her, Frisk thought with a chuckle.

Mopping up the last of the syrup, Frisk finished her breakfast with one last bite before taking her plate over to the sink; she had to stand on her tiptoes, since the kitchen sink was up much higher than the bathroom to make cooking easier for Toriel. She grabbed the sponge under the handle, lathered it up with some soap and water, and washed her plate before reaching back for Toriel's as well.

"Why, thank you, child!" Toriel handed her empty plate over for Frisk to clean as she got up to put the syrup away. "Always so thoughtful."

Frisk wished she could believe that.

Now that the dishes were done, it was time to head out. She kissed her mother goodbye before heading out, closing shut the blue door and skipping down the front steps; the sun was bright, and she winced a bit at first sight as her eyes adjusted. It was a beautiful day outside, with hardly a cloud in the brilliant sapphire sky. Their home was ringed with flowers, a mix of zinnias, nasturtiums, mountain laurels, and chrysanthemums; while Asgore was very much so the gardener, Frisk had picked up a thing or two from him, and she enjoyed sprucing up the place. She'd need to water when she got back; it didn't seem like it would rain today.

She would have preferred to start off by helping Monster Kid and the others with their treehouse, but MK was quite the late sleeper; they'd probably not be up and ready to go until well past noon, more likely closer to two, so instead she'd start with the neighborhood. The first house was . . .

. . . oh. Right. Sans and Papyrus' house.

She loved the skeleton brothers, make no mistake; Papyrus was one of the sweetest, most earnest persons she'd ever known, and he was always so upbeat and energetic, you couldn't help but go along with him. He was one of the first true friends she had made in the Underground, and she'd had so much fun with him. He'd kept her company on the phone throughout the entire journey, and hadn't gotten impatient or upset no matter how many times she'd called.

Sans, on the other hand . . . he was hilarious, and he always seemed to be nearby to lend a hand when she needed it. He'd led her through Snowdin, gotten her through, treated her (and pranked her) so many times. He was so special to her.

It was a shame that he hated her so.

Oh, he'd been so positive; at the Judgment Hall, as the golden light poured in from the towering stained glass windows, bathing them in a mix of shadows and stars, his words were a driving force unlike any other. She'd done the right thing; she'd gained love, not LOVE. He was rooting for her.

But it was an act, she was sure. He'd only ever cracked once around her, but even the barest thought of it still struck her like a whip, and she struggled to hold back the tears. She'd bought into it, followed him to the MTT Resort, excited to finally see the inside of such a ritzy place. Imagine, her in a suite!

. . . if it hadn't been for Toriel, he would have killed her the moment he saw her. He would have killed her right there, even. He'd kill her right now, too. He'd held onto that grudge ever since the start, hadn't he? Maybe even before that.

She'd tried, so hard. So, so hard. But then, she always knew that she wasn't good enough. A failure. She hadn't been strong enough back then, and she deserved his ire. And more.

But even so. She'd never stop protecting them. She'd never let them be unhappy, let anything bad happen to them.

. . . her hand had crept up to her face, shaking, covering her mouth and clutching at her cheekbones. She bit her lip, forced the tears back, and ran her hand up past her eyes and through her hair. One deep breath. Another.

She'd come back to their house.


	3. Chapter 3 - The Things We've Lost

Hi again. This one took a bit longer. Sorry. I don't really have an update schedule, but I'll probably shoot for one every few days. It's a bit of a slow start, but we'll start to see the other characters much more so in the coming chapters. Hope you enjoy it! Thanks for the comments and for sticking with!

Chapter 3 – The Things We've Lost

Trouble had come much earlier than she had hoped or expected.

Things had started off fine, following the slightly rocky start at Papyrus' house; a couple miles down the road, the first monsters she'd encountered had been the Froggits from the Ruins; they seemed to prefer sticking near Toriel, along with some of the Whimsuns, grouped together into a small encampment, a gathering of tents surrounding a modest and simple log cabin. Force of habit, maybe? They'd preferred a more communal home, insisting that they didn't need much, and had made a very solid life for themselves. While Frisk enjoyed very much how things had worked out for her, she couldn't deny that living in the woods, off of the land sounded quite romantic. She'd never been camping before, but it sure sounded like a good time!

One of the Froggits noticed her drawing close, greeting her with a loud ribbit to announce her arrival, and Frisk waved back with a wide grin. Frisk could tell it was one of the kids, up early; maybe one of Croakley's? To be honest it sometimes was hard to tell. As she approached, a couple more came up; yes, that was Croakley there, the larger one of the three, so these two were Cricket and Crackle.

"Are you here to check in on us, Ms. Ambassador? _Ribbit,"_ Croakley asked. He was a very thoughtful monster; he knew that she didn't like to speak, and so was always careful with his wording, and never minded their sometimes one-sided conversations. Monsters were all so nice and wonderful!

Frisk let Croakley guide her around the small tent village (it reminded her of the Hoovervilles from her lessons somewhat), taking her to some of the newcomers and showing her where any recent additions had been made. As ambassador, Frisk had taken it as part of her duties to not just check in on the monsters, but act as a welcoming party for the stragglers still coming up, as well as solve any problems that should arise. There had been a concern of flooding last month, after the heavy rainfalls had swelled the waters of the Enola River, so Frisk had gathered a group to build up berms around any of the potential danger zones. Nothing had come of it, but she'd rather work early in preparation than go back to solve a problem.

Frisk started by introducing herself to the most recent residents: a rather scraggly Froggit named Frag, a pair of Whimsun siblings named Wyst and Wyld, and Locke, a Loox that had actually moved down from Ebott not two days ago. They were settling in fine, but Locke had needed more household goods; they'd run out of fabric for tarps and blankets, and the community was starting to run low on dairy and produce with the new mouths to feed. Croakley mentioned that some of the local wildlife had started probing the outskirts; the deer and bobcats were relatively harmless, but someone had mentioned seeing a rather large bear, and there could potentially be a mountain lion nearby. The monsters likely didn't know how to deal with wilderness threats; the Underground was very tame compared to the Surface. Frisk promised to both set them up with more supplies and to see if she could get Asgore to bring some of the Royal Guard down and build some fences for them.

Even though the war was over, the Royal Guard were still around, though truth be told they were much more of a neighborhood watch group than a militia. There was no one to fight anymore, after all, and many of the members had gone on to start new lives of their own on the surface. Undyne was still their leader, and always the first one to arrive when something needed doing (or breaking, she'd show up much faster when smashing things was involved), but she and Alphys had actually moved in together up north, closer to the nearby city of Zelienople. The suburbs stretched close to the mountain, blending a bit into Day. The more metropolitan life seemed to suit them well, and they enjoyed their frequent excursions out into the bustle of urban life. Frisk was much more at peace out here in the rural outskirts, and to emphasize the thought she took a deep breath of the country air. So fresh and safe.

And he wasn't here. He'd never come here. He'd never come. Reeking of smoke and beer and old leather belts, with that voice that was so benign around others, but malignant like a cancer in private, a creeping stain that corroded everything he touched, everything and everyone, and now she was gone, and _it was her f-_

"Ms. Ambassador, are you all right?"

Locke's words snapped her out of her daze, and with a gasp _he_ was gone, and she was with Croakley and the others. She blinked once, twice, looked around her with a held breath; she was in Ebott. She was in Ebott.

Her fists had been clenched hard enough for her nails to draw blood, gouging into her palms, and her teeth ached from grinding. She felt a cold shiver run through her, and she hoped that the others couldn't see the trembles she felt in her legs. She felt like she would be sick. She wanted to curl up and hide, to find Toriel and be held in her arms.

But instead, she said that she was fine, in her soft and quiet voice that felt like it would be carried off in the breeze, and she ran her hand through her hair, the palm resting on her temple for a moment. She was stronger than this. She had to be. For them.

"I'm fine," she repeated with a grin, thanking Locke with a nod. Before she left, she had Croakley show her to the well in the middle of their encampment. She grabbed the worn yellow rope, slightly frayed, and pulled the bucket up, checking the water level; it seemed a bit low, but it should rain again soon. It smelled and tasted fine, too, so they should be all set. She reiterated that she'd be sure that they got what they needed before the end of the week before bidding them farewell with a wave.

Farther down, more by themselves and surrounded by woodlands that faded into rolling hills were the Margarets; the lady of the house, Mary, had been the shopkeeper in Snowdin. Mary seemed the best choice to ask to supply the Froggits and Whimsuns; she had easy access to Day and Zelienople, and it would be best to work with a monster supplier until everyone was more settled in and settled down; even though hostilities were over, there had been some very close calls and times that Frisk had been forced to intervene.

Frisk had always liked Mary; truth be told, Frisk had a soft spot for bunnies, and the first time that she'd seen Mrs. Margaret she'd almost exploded with excitement. Imagine, a world filled with big talking fluffy buns! Thankfully, her glee had not overtaken her manners, and Frisk had quickly made friends with the kind and generous monster. She had even given Frisk a discount with a wink, though she had to promise not to tell anyone.

Frisk hadn't met her family back in Snowdin, but had found them to be a very earnest and hardworking troupe up above, and they'd done quite well for themselves. Mrs. Margaret had taken her store with her essentially, setting up a corner store that sat at the crossroads of the entrance to the Underground and the road in between Ebott and the neighboring town of Day. Her husband primarily worked construction; he was helping many of the other monsters finish their homes (or get started; there were still some latecomers trickling out that needed places to stay). Fortunately for them, gold was very liquid; it was very easy to turn monster currency into human dollars to purchase supplies and make deals, and most all of the monsters had enough to comfortable, with some quite well off. Temmie had more than enough to go to college, and Mrs. Margaret had been doing extremely well, her business booming; maybe Frisk should have saved up more instead of stocking up on those cinnamon bunnies? Eh. Money and wealth were certainly not high on her list of priorities.

Unlike the skeleton brothers, who had made such an exact replica (snow on the roof and all, not even sure how that worked out) of their house that Frisk was sure they had just picked it up and moved it, the bunny family had opted for an all-new home (as well as a new storefront), and Frisk thought it looked quite appealing and contemporary. They had a large yard, with a bench swing out back next to a white and purple gazebo, and though Frisk had never been back there, she could see the edges of what looked like a small vegetable garden, or maybe herbs. Would it be insensitive to guess if they were carrots?

Their home was pretty big, but then, they had a large family; seven kids, all living under the same roof! Frisk walked past a pretty white picket fence, opening the small wooden gate with a squeak and looking up at the gateway decorated with morning glory curving its way up past the arch, a bright blue that went well with the rest of the homescape. The sun had moved past its peak by this point, and Frisk figured it was likely around 2:00; checking her phone confirmed this. She should probably go find MK after this.

Almost immediately after ringing the doorbell, Frisk heard frantic footsteps racing towards the door, and Mrs. Margaret flung it open hard enough to make Frisk take a step back in surprise.

"Frisk, honey, thank goodness you're here! It's my youngest, Marina, she's gone missing and no one knows where she is!" Mary cried, eyes wide as the full moon, and she grabbed Frisk by the shoulders to steady herself.

Panic set in then, matching the worry of the mother's, and Frisk found her eyes matching Mrs. Margaret's. Her thoughts raced in her head, but she suppressed them with a hard swallow; she had to stay calm, stay focused. She could fix this.  
Placing her hands on top of the shopkeeper's, Frisk steeled her gaze, meeting Mrs. Margaret's eyes with a determined look.  
"Tell me," Was all she said at first, letting the terrified mother speak. She and her husband had gotten up early, getting things ready for the shop for the day. They'd let the children sleep in, since it was the weekend. She'd gone in to check on the girls, when she'd noticed the window had been forced open, and Marina was gone. She'd immediately run outside looking, while her husband called Asgore to get anyone who could come down to help with the search. They'd contacted the human police, but didn't know if they'd be able to help.

"When?"

"I-I went in around 10:00? I don't know how long she'd been . . . if I'd only checked on them earlier, I could have . . ." Mrs. Margaret gasped, tears spilling from her face. No one should have to feel like that. Frisk grabbed her hand, pulling it in between hers, cradling it. She looked up at her with a smile, warm and calm, as she spoke.

"Please don't cry. It will be all right; I'll get her back."

Frisk closed her eyes, feeling the familiar pull, and felt herself take a step back in her mind. Everything went cold and dark, silence filling her world, and then a familiar nausea and pain shot through her. She woke to the deep indigo light of dawn streaming past parted curtains.

Time to get up.


	4. Chapter 4 - The Paper-Thin Edge

Hey, to clarify for anyone confused, yes, Frisk went back in time in the last chapter. I'm not a big fan of writing it as saves and loads; it's good as a mechanic in the game, but if I'm writing I'd prefer to take a bit of license with it. Also I think of Frisk as around 12-13 years old. Again, thanks for reading and commenting! I'll try to answer any questions or address any concerns. The chapters seem to be getting longer as they go, so it takes me a bit longer. Sorry!

Chapter 4 – The Paper-Thin Edge

It was morning again; the same migraine assaulted her senses, the same nausea filled her stomach, the same comfort of the covers cool against skin covered in a cold sweat from a sleepless night. If she so chose, the same would continue to repeat. She could lie here, until she heard Toriel beginning her morning in the kitchen. The day would be identical; every day could be, if she'd wanted it. This was the power that she'd been blessed with, as well as the burden she'd been cursed with. The ability to go back, to fix a mistake, to make a different choice. Knowledge of the future and sins of the past, all spun together. So long as she had the determination, she could go back. To a point, at least. Death . . . was another such way. And if she chose, she could restart everything altogether, go back to the Underground. Back to the field of golden flowers at the bottom of the world. But she could never go farther back than that. She'd tried so many times, but it was like there was a wall, blocking her. That was her limit.

For now.

She could think on that another time. She had a job to do for now. Returning to the morning didn't alleviate her migraine, however, but rather the opposite, and forcing herself out of bed caused a sudden fireworks display to ignite in her skull, the flashes of color nearly blinding, and for a moment Frisk was struck by the odd silence of it all. Pain was usually much louder than this.

She pushed through it with grit teeth; time was of the essence. She couldn't go back earlier than this, and so she had to make it to the Margarets' before the abduction. Every minute would count; she could always come back if she were too late, but if it was already happening at this very moment, then only speed would help. It was just pain; it would fade.

Memories and failures lasted.

Moving fast, Frisk threw on the same clothes as the first time she'd gone through the day, the first ones in reach, and pushed her groaning body to the bathroom. There, behind the mirror; she snatched the bottle of aspirin, popping a pair of pills and washing them down with water drunk from cupped hands. She took the extra seconds to splash some of the cold water on her face, giving her that extra little jolt, and didn't bother to mop it off before rushing out to the kitchen. As she reached for the doorknob, she hesitated for a brief moment, thinking of Toriel. Best to leave a note.

 _Potential trouble at the Margarets'. Call if you need me._

 _-Love, Frisk_

She set the pen on top of the notepad, leaving both on the counter for Toriel to see before dashing out of the front door, leaping down the porch steps and taking off down the road. She didn't like to ask for help, but as she ran she considered the possibility of conflict. Should she call Undyne? Maybe Papyrus or Sans? They were both right there . . . maybe it was selfish, but something about today made her hesitate when it came to the skeletons. Papyrus would surely come help, but he was so nice and sweet; what if he got hurt? And Sans would probably be too deep in his sleep to wake; he didn't like to admit it to anyone, but Frisk was pretty sure that he had trouble sleeping at night as well. Frisk would see him sometimes through her window, when some bad dream or another had startled her awake, watch him meander down the streets. Sometimes he'd do his trick where he turned a corner and then was gone, likely to Grillby's or somewhere familiar. He'd always had a certain air around him, and Frisk had noticed his vulnerabilities time and again, most notably when she'd pulled him out from Asriel. He kept his secrets well, but he'd surely had a hard life; Frisk certainly had contributed to that, she thought with a sour note. She could let them sleep, have this moment of respite.

That left Undyne, fittingly; Frisk pulled out her phone as she hurried down the street, tapping on her name to call her up. It only rang twice before someone picked up; Frisk had learned from earlier sleepovers that Undyne was a very light sleeper, likely a result of her training.

"Nnn . . . yeah, hello?! Who is it?!" Undyne's volume rose with every syllable until was nearly yelling into the phone, taking the sleep in her voice and smashing it to pieces before then smashing those pieces into even smaller fragments. Frisk pulled the phone away from her ear with a slight wince and a gasp, and reminded herself not to keep her phone's volume on max next time she woke Undyne up. Actually, considering her friends and family, that was probably a pretty good rule in general.

" . . . sorry. It's Frisk . . ."

"Oh. Hey punk! What's up, isn't it early for you?"

"I think there's trouble at the Margarets," Frisk had to take a second to think of how to word it; no one knew of her ability to go back in time, and Frisk preferred to keep it that way. Even though it was for everyone's benefit, something about it sometimes felt a bit wrong. Frisk didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings; she just wanted to help and do the right thing. "Could you come please?"

"Margarets from Snowdin? 12 Lonely Road?"

"Mm-hmm."

"Got it, munchkin. Be there in a flash!" Frisk could practically see the wide, toothy grin on her face as she hung up with a slam (Frisk had tried explaining to her that you can just tap the red button, you didn't need to hit it . . . it didn't work). The sensation of relief was almost palpable, easing her concerns somewhat; it was nice to have other people that were actually there for her. That _wanted_ to be there for her. It was still an alien feeling, even after the two months since they'd gotten out from the Underground. So fragile and fleeting; if Frisk wasn't careful, she was afraid she'd trample it and lose it forever. There had only been one person from before, one light in the darkness. Frisk missed her more with every passing second.

Frisk rounded the bend that led towards Croakley's encampment; last time, she'd followed the asphalt as it turned into a beaten dirt road, following it into the cluster of tents and huts, but this time she kept on the curve, beelining for the shopkeeper's home. There was a slight chill in the early morning air that was starting to steal Frisk's breath, and for a second she almost wished that she'd worn a thicker shirt, despite knowing that it would soon heat up as the sun rose. She ran past the trees, flanking her on both sides, towers of eastern hemlock and pin oak and maple. A breeze blew at her back, the leaves and needles swaying in the wind . . .

. . . and scattering some of the snow that had gathered on the tops of the trees. Even with her sweater, it was bitterly cold. How could it go from comfortable in the Ruins to snow in an instant? It was like she'd been transported to a different world after she'd left Toriel and gone through the door. Her thoughts drifted back to the monster; she didn't know why she'd called her mother, but the warmth she'd felt in there had been a strange mix of comforting and repelling. She didn't deserve it; not with all of the blood on her hands. Was Toriel's on her as well? Frisk sincerely hoped not. But then, that's why she had to do this.

She heard a twig crack behind her as she was blowing warm air into her hands, and her head snapped behind her, eyes scanning. She didn't remember any of this; one of the first things she could recall upon waking up the very first time was watching herself trudge through a pile of dust with a scarf on top, fluttering in the snowstorm. It had belonged to a tall skeleton, but she could only remember flashes. She could see her feet pushing through the snowbanks, feel her numb hand clutching the knife, hear the whistle of the wind through the firs, but could only watch through eyes that were no longer her own, a prisoner in her own skin. It reminded her of staring out the car window, watching the scenery change. That was all it had been. It had been hard to care, at first. Hard to care about anything. After what had happened in the outskirts of Zelienople . . . what did it matter? She'd felt a presence in her mind agree with her, then; Y _ou've been through enough. Relax. Leave the rest to me._

And she had.

But things were different now. She was in control. She hadn't been able to move before, hadn't been able to meet or interact with anyone, but she had been watching. Always watching. Everything that had happened, everyone that they had come across, her and the voice in her thoughts. Frisk had been learning. How to move in a fight, where to step and what to watch. She'd had plenty of opportunities to watch and learn. But she wasn't here to hurt anyone. All of those people that she'd seen, from behind the panes of her lost self, they'd been suffering too. She could do something right. She could help them. She could save them.

As she approached an odd-looking wooden bridge, she noticed someone was standing behind her, in the shadow of a sycamore.

"Human. Don't you know how to greet a new pal?" he asked as he extended his hand. His voice was low and rich. She'd heard it before. "Turn around and shake my hand."

She did as she was told; his hand was hard and cold, but what was more surprising was the sudden rush of air as she squeezed that sounded suspiciously like . . . a fart. The short skeleton chuckled at his prank, and Frisk couldn't help but laugh at the simple ridiculousness of it, especially coming from him of all people.

It felt good to laugh.

Frisk took in a deep breath of the cold air . . .

. . . and stopped in her tracks, eyes wide and breathing unsteady. She'd blacked out or something; where was she? She glanced around, at the trees, bright green with foliage around her, and the flowers blooming in the rising sun. The pretty house with the white and purple gazebo was just up ahead. Any snow had long since melted, and Sans was nowhere to be seen. But then, why would he be here? She'd been on her way to the Margarets' home, 12 Lonely Road.

Right?

This didn't make sense. She took a step back, spinning around as she looked over her shoulder; this didn't make sense. She'd . . . she'd just been in Snowdin, a minute ago. But that was impossible.

Had she just been seeing things? Memories and flashbacks running through her head, even when awake? That was all she could think of. She shook her head to clear it, sucking in a deep breath; she had to get herself together, get her head on straight. She had a job to do, and the house was just ahead. She'd be fine after she got some rest, she was sure.

As she began to run towards the porch, she noticed a flicker of movement in the yard, around the far corner. There, in black; someone was there, already behind the house. It was happening, right now.

Frisk clenched her fists and felt a knot grow in her stomach; she pushed it down, turned it into resolve, and picked up the pace, breaking into a full sprint. She leapt over the white fence, her feet pounding in the grass still wet with dew, skidding around the side of the house just in time to see a man in a black leather jacket with dark jeans and unkempt hair dragging a small bunny child, six years old, from the window, a red and white handkerchief covering her mouth. Frisk had his back, as he began dragging the child off towards a four wheeler out in the fields. She'd have one shot at this.

Maintaining her momentum, Frisk pushed off with everything she had, rocketing into the man from behind and knocking Marina out of his grip. The small child fell with a cry, her voice no longer muffled by the cloth, and Frisk snatched her up as she came sliding to a stop, the man staggering to the side, more from shock than from the force.

"Sssh, hush now. It'll be all right," Frisk comforted Marina, taking the child's hand and tucking her behind her, interposing herself between Marina and her would-be kidnapper. Marina clutched onto her hand, sobbing for her mama and papa, still in her nightgown. With any luck, her parents would hear the commotion soon and come out to help. Frisk couldn't look back at her, though; her eyes were locked onto the man in black. He smelled faintly of gasoline and mowed grass, and his pocked and chipped face had a rough shape that would've looked at home in a quarry.

"Hand the kid over," he growled, squaring up. He was quite a bit bigger than he'd looked at first glance.

Frisk shook her head, taking a step back with Marina. She wouldn't let him have her, but she also refused to fight. She'd promised herself, made a vow; never again. She'd never hurt another thing on this earth again, as long as she lived, no matter what. She'd found a way to get through to everyone below, no matter the situation or the odds; there had to be a way here.

"Please leave," Frisk tried leveling with him. " . . . you don't have anything to gain by this."

"It's a job, girl," he replied, softer this time, and as he spoke he started walking towards them. His boots were thick-soled, and ground the flowering weeds underfoot. "I'm not here to hurt anyone. Just give her to me and we'll all walk out of this in one piece."

"You'll hurt her when you take her. Her mother and father will be inconsolable because of you. What if she were yours?" Frisk didn't like to talk this much, but she had to try reasoning with him. She knew from experience that humans were . . . very different from monsters, but she had to have faith that there was some good she could reach.

"I'm doing what I have to. Last chance, brat."

He wasn't having any of it. Frisk responded by gently pushing the crying girl farther back from the man. She'd never give in. The man was right on top of her, his long legs bringing him close, and she could see the shift in his eyes, the clenching of muscles in his jaw and neck as he tensed up. He came at her hard and fast, suddenly rushing in with a right hook, any and all friendliness gone. Frisk jerked her head back, his fist blurring past her nose, and she could feel the wind.

He was surprised at that, his eyes wide in surprise for a moment. It came as no surprise to Frisk. He was tall, but she'd already had lifetimes of experience in life-or-death battles. He whipped his hand up to grab her outstretched arm, but Frisk had already seen it coming, dashing a step towards his opposite side and sliding past. He was slow; much slower than Undyne or Asgore.

Much slower than Sans.

She hadn't been in control, but it had still been her body that had woven through hurricane fields of bone and blasters, and the experience had been carved into her very muscles and nerves. Everything that had happened, every spear thrust and torrent of flames had been her teacher.

The man's full attention was on her now, and as he rushed her down, Frisk read through his every move. A twist away from another closed fist, a half-step in to duck a frustrated blow, jump back to avoid being grabbed and then circle around, tire him out. Time was hers to control, and while Death had been a cruel master, he was effective. After so many loads, so many deaths in the Underground, Frisk had picked up more than just the habits of her opponents. She could break down the seconds in a fight, dodge what was coming before it hit her. She'd grown even more when she'd been in control, the second time through. She'd taken everything and took it another step further, dodging only, refusing to fight. If she could weave her way through the falling of the very stars against the God of Hyperdeath, what hope did this man have of catching her?

His breathing was starting to get labored; his movements were exaggerated, wasteful. He took a long step in, pulling back for another haymaker, but his foot slipped in a wet patch of grass, his blow going wide. Frisk hardly even needed to dodge it; all she needed to do . . .

. . . was hold still. That's what Sans had said, right? Hold still for blue attacks. The magical teal bones passed through her harmlessly, until with a pop she'd realized that she'd turned blue herself! Papyrus sniggered to himself, and Frisk couldn't help but giggle with him –

. . . no, where was she? Had she blacked out again? She couldn't focus on anything, it was all a blur. Her head was fuzzy . . . hadn't she been . . .?

She realized a second too late, her head snapping forward in time to catch the dirty knuckles filling her world. She went down hard, her head bouncing off of the lawn, stars filling her view, the wind knocked out of her. Immediately her migraine flared up, twice as angry as before, and Frisk could do little but grasp at the blades of grass. She could hear something; shouting, some kind of roar (an engine?) but it was drowned out by a ringing in her ears.

Marina. She had to save Marina!

It took everything she had, but Frisk managed to roll onto her back, just in time to find out what that roaring noise was, and it brought a wide grin to her face despite the pain. Undyne had not only made it, she'd gotten there in style. Her motorcycle lay running next to them, the man in black securely in her well-muscled arms, and with a fervent shout Undyne lifted the man clean over her head and suplexed him hard enough to knock all of the fight out of him. She must have ridden it straight through the field and fence, judging by the splinters of wood and the muddy trail. Mary and Goddard Margaret had made it out of the house, the couple scooping up Marina in their arms, alternating between consoling her and heaping praise upon Frisk and Undyne.

"Frisk, you wonderful child, Frisk! Thank you, thank you!"

"I don't know how you knew or why you were back here, but thank the King for you, Frisk! And you, Captain!"

Frisk spared a glance over at Undyne; the Captain of the Royal Guard meet her gaze as she tied up the kidnapper, and her smile was fierce and proud. Frisk shot her a smile of her own with a thumbs-up, leaning her head back into the cold, wet grass. It felt good. God, Undyne was so cool! Thank goodness she'd made it.

"You okay, punk?" Undyne asked, crouching down next to her. She was concerned at first, but when Frisk nodded her head, she went back to her victorious pride, slapping Frisk's shoulder hard. "Hah, I knew you would be! You were AWESOME, bestie! We should've put you in the guard, not in some dumb diplomat position!"

"yeah, great work, kiddo," another voice added. Frisk craned her head to see Sans there as well, his bony hand on her shoulder. When had he gotten here? Frisk couldn't find the energy to care about that at the moment; she'd ask later, but for now she beamed up at him, too, glad that everything had worked out. Except for getting belted in the face, of course, but aside from that.

"iris spect your bravery," Sans said with a wink. "come on, let's get you inside and get some ice on that black eye."


	5. Chapter 5 - A Soul Weighed Down

I was busy helping someone move and setting up other things, so this chapter is definitely late. Sorry! I'll try not to slack so much! Thanks again to everyone keeping with this!

Chapter 5 – A Soul Weighed Down

Frisk had insisted that she was fine, they didn't need to worry about her, she could take care of herself. Unfortunately, her body hadn't gotten the message and wasn't responding as it should, as she'd found herself stumbling back onto the ground as soon as she'd tried to get back to her feet, her head swimming. It had been a while since she'd taken a hit like that; or at least, it had felt like it to her.

Which was how she'd found herself in Sans' arms like some fairytale princess, her face a peculiar shade of crimson that she wouldn't have thought possible before today. She desperately tried to hide her embarrassment with her hands, burying herself in her sleeves as she heard Undyne erupting into laughter from behind, almost certainly taking pictures. She'd never hear the end of this one. At least she'd cut Sans off from making a "falling for him" pun.

. . . on the other hand, though, she couldn't deny that she enjoyed this, even yearned for it on some deep level that she'd rather not admit to. She could remember a time when she'd craved this kind of physical affection, attention, anything; some proof that someone cared. She'd had _her_ , of course, but no one else. And now, she had so many that cared for her, took care of her, loved her; it was unbelievable, it truly was. Frisk was so afraid that she'd wake up and everything would have just been a dream. Even Sans was being so kind and gentle with her! Maybe she'd been wrong about him?

Sans carried her up the porch steps, going straight inside; the Margarets had left the door wide open as they'd rushed out to save their daughter, and it banged lazily against the paneling on the side of the house, the wind giving it a slight nudge every now and then to keep it from closing. Their home was just as cozy as Frisk had imagined it would be (though Toriel's was still the best, of course!), and the first thing that Frisk had noticed was the pleasant scent of carrot cake in the air, cream cheese icing mixing with cinnamon and nutmeg. Sans took her straight to the living room, carefully laying her down on the large couch that was swimming in decorative pillows topped with a throw blanket of Snowdin at night; Mrs. Margaret must have made it herself. The motion of being lowered made Frisk's headache flare up, and she winced slightly as she sank into the thick, fluffy cushions.

"sorry, kid," Sans apologized with a slight grimace. Frisk waved him off with a smile; there was nothing to apologize for. He was wearing his usual blue hoody and shorts with slippers; he wore that outfit so often, Frisk sometimes wondered if he had any other clothes. He plodded off to the kitchen after she'd settled in, leaving her to realize that Undyne and the Margarets had yet to follow. Undyne was probably arranging for someone to come and pick up whoever that man in black was, and the Margarets were probably still doting on Marina. Frisk took the rare opportunity to bathe in the feeling of pride; she'd done everything right. She'd have to call Toriel and apologize, though; she'd be back later than expected, and her mother would surely not be happy with the massive black eye. Frisk was pretty sure that if she focused enough, she could feel the bruise creeping around her eye socket. She poked at it a bit, getting a feel for where it hurt the most; ah! Right there, and she sucked in a quick breath as she pulled her fingers back, her sleeve falling down her arm. She glanced around and saw her reflection in a large, decorative mirror above their fireplace; she looked like one half of a raccoon had picked a fight with a steam roller. Boy, would she make a great impression the next time she was called to the office.

"here we go, got some ice for you – whoa, what happened there?"

Frisk's eyes went over to Sans, not quite sure what he was referring to, until she followed his gaze, the twin pricks of white light narrowed slightly and focused on her. She felt her heart start beating slightly faster, bad memories creeping into her mind as she finally figured out what he was referring to. Her sleeve; she hadn't noticed earlier. Her arm was showing.

Her throat was suddenly dry, no, barren, and her eyes couldn't decide if they should settle on Sans or on her arm; more specifically, the marks on her arm. The textured ring of a ligature scar, the ugly texture and pockmarking of burns of various kinds, the jagged white where broken glass had been thrown at her – Frisk quickly yanked down her sleeve, the creamy blue covering the proof of her inadequacy. There was more, so much more, and she didn't want him to see, to ask, to know. Didn't want anyone to know.

"what was that?" Sans pressed, and the usual joke in his voice was gone. She didn't like when he was serious. He stepped closer, insistent, and Frisk suddenly found the many trinkets and knick-knacks that the Margarets had collected over the years to be incredibly interesting. The cuckoo clock in particular was quite appealing.

"Frisk, c'mon, toss me a bone, give me something to work with here." He chuckled as he approached, reaching a hand out to hers, and Frisk instinctively pulled hers back, her fingers arching away. Scenes flashed in her mind of the judgment hall, golden light streaming in. Of blood-soaked bones and dust-covered hands. She didn't bear the physical scars of those battles; she only kept the marks of this time, not of previous tries. But the mental wounds stayed, and if she tried hard enough, she could still feel herself being impaled and perforated by his relentless barrage. The thought made her old injuries burn and smolder.

Sans was still smiling, he always was, but she could tell by the look in his eyes that he was confused, hurt. Her head dropped as she started chewing the inside of her lip. She always ended up hurting those she loved. Worthless. Couldn't do anything right. Maybe she should just go back again, do the day over. Get it right this time. She could avoid getting hit and worrying Toriel, she could avoid hurting Sans like this. But she knew she couldn't; it wasn't right to abuse her power, to toy with people's lives. Even as much as she did, even for all the right reasons, felt like sins. Would anyone understand, if they ever found out?

No, she could only move forward from here.

Frisk shot him a smile, and though it was as warm as she could muster, she couldn't hide all of the hurt and weariness from it. She reached for his hand as she rubbed her arm, patted it.

"Please . . ." _Please. Just . . . let it be. Don't burden yourself with me, don't torture yourself over me. Just let me make you happy._

"kiddo," Sans let out a heavy sigh, and for a moment, Frisk thought she saw the pricks of light in his sockets go dark, thought she could see the ornate decorations on the inside of the MTT Resort. He'd been sitting across from her, just two pals at dinner.

 **"You'd be dead where you stand."**

Why had he said that? Was she really so irredeemable? Why was her father always right?

"did you hear me?"

Frisk snapped back to the present, her eyes refocusing on Sans. His eyes were still bright, though now tinged with concern. Had he been saying something? She could hear some commotion coming from the door, the Margarets returning from the sounds of it.

"we can talk about this later, okay? just know i'm here for ya."

Frisk nodded her head in silent thanks as she took the ice pack from him, swallowing hard at the implications. She didn't want to . . . deal with any of this. She was supposed to have left all of that behind her.

She wished _she_ were here. Not for the last time.

Mary came inside in a rush, Marina bundled up in her arms, still awash with gratitude, and Frisk found herself blushing underneath the cold bundle pushed against her swelling cheek. She thought she could hear the other kids in the back as well, but she didn't want to turn to look. No, just laying here seemed a fine idea.

" . . . and, uh, sorry about the fence. And the yard. And the bushes. And the garden. We'll take care of that for you, Goddard."

"Oh, no, no, no! There's nothing to apologize for, Captain Undyne, please. We're in your debt, both of you," Mr. Margaret responded, his hands waving as he walked past the couch and came into view. He was already dressed, wearing a pair of denim overalls over an orange and green plaid shirt. Was it just her, or was there definitely a carrot motif happening here? "Oh, Frisk! Are you all right?"

A shaky thumbs-up was her reply. God, the ice felt so wonderful on her face. Sans was a saint.

"We just wanted to thank you again. I don't know what we would have done if you hadn't been there. You're an angel, all right." Frisk blushed even harder.

"watch it with the compliments, you're gonna turn her into a beet," Sans chuckled. He wasn't helping with that, but Frisk giggled all the same.

"Hey squirt, how's the face looking?"

Frisk removed the ice pack. Undyne hesitated for a moment before flashing another of her toothy smiles.

"Yeah, it's definitely looking all right. Wear that with pride, you earned it!"

"I can't believe someone would try to do like that. And then to hit you! He could have really hurt you!" Goddard exclaimed, running a paw over his big ears. Frisk was enamored with how they popped right back up. "Just . . . why would anyone try to take our Marina?"

"Don't worry about that, chief. We'll get to the heart of this. I'll make him talk if nothing else!" Undyne punched her open hand, grinding it in place, and Frisk couldn't help but worry about the man in black. She'd take it easy, right?

Maybe Frisk should be there when she talked to him.

"Huh, you worried about him? Don't, the Canine Unit already picked him up." Not quite what she was worried about, but that was definitely a relief.

"but how'd you know how to come here, kiddo? pretty early to just be going for a walk. not that i'm complaining, mind," Sans asked, and he seemed to be paying a bit more attention to Frisk than she would've liked. He'd always been curious, sometimes bordering on suspicious of her, but she didn't think he remembered anything. No one else ever remembered when she went back in time, and she'd never mentioned it.

Frisk just shrugged her shoulders, hoping that would be enough. What could she say, that she'd already seen a future where it had happened and had come back to stop it? That would just invite more questions, lead to answers that led to paths that Frisk didn't want to walk. She didn't want them considering the ramifications of her power.

She didn't want them to realize that they'd killed her before. It was bad enough that she remembered; worse that she could never forget.

It wasn't enough. Undyne joined in now, too, asking, "yeah, Frisk, you called me up way early! You get a tip or something?"

Frisk swallowed; her throat was so dry, and a lump formed whenever she tried to speak. Her words were ashes in her mouth, dirty clumps of falsehoods that coated the ugly truths that she didn't want to face.

Why did it always have to be this way with words?

Why was she here?

She couldn't answer those questions, didn't want to. Instead, she motioned with her hand for a cup, please. Goddard stared, confused, but Sans got it right away, strolling into the kitchen and filling a glass with water before returning and handing it to her. The glass was decorated with frosted carrots (all right, there was definitely a carrot theme going on here).

Nodding her thanks, Frisk took a slow sip, savoring it; it felt wonderful on her cottony mouth, and seemed to wash away some of her concerns. She took another long drink before answering.

"I was out checking on everyone . . . I noticed and got worried." Even with all she didn't want to say, she still didn't like to lie to her family. Leaving things out wasn't as bad as lying, right? ". . . you?" She turned to ask Sans now. Why had he been out back? She'd expected him to have been fast asleep.

"worried, huh? yeah, me too." Sans shrugged his shoulders with a wink. Frisk just kept looking at him. If he didn't want to say, that was fine.

"nah, i saw the kid heading out and figured i'd skull-k about and follow 'em. heh heh." Undyne groaned. Had he followed her the first time? He was certainly sneaky enough, and he had a way with getting places that Frisk never expected. Maybe she just hadn't noticed? Or maybe her getting up earlier was what did it; one of the major constants was that, Frisk excluded, everything always stayed the same when she went back. Everyone would do the same exact things one hundred times in a row if Frisk reset one hundred times; only she could do something different. That was part of what bothered Frisk about her power; that feeling of control, of absolutism . . . it frightened her, even as much as it empowered her. There was very little distinction between being caught in a time loop and death, or at least that's how Frisk saw it. Both ways, they could never move forward with their lives. On the other hand, at least in the former they could enjoy themselves while they were alive, even if they could never see the next day. On second thought, she wasn't sure which was worse.

"Thank you," Frisk grinned. She truly was glad Sans had been there; even if he hated her, even if he had some other ulterior motive behind his appearance, it meant a lot to her that he'd taken care of her. Her headache still bothered her, along with the multitude of phantom injuries that flared up constantly, but she could suffer through those herself; she didn't need to bother them with her weird hangups and pains.

Her eyelids fluttered as the others kept talking about the morning's events, the pounding in her head eventually winding down into a tap-tap-tap, and as everything began to fade, the room began to shift, replaced by a smaller one covered with peeling wallpaper decorated with a white floral print and some old dressers, covered with scratches and dents. Pressed against the wall was a wide mattress covered with a faded and threadbare comforter covered with birds and flowers, and next to that a small desk, the only nice piece of furniture in the room save for the chair in front of the desk. A girl sat in the chair, hunched over, and from the scratching of paper and the rhythm of her hand she was writing in her journal. She stopped, noticing Frisk, and started to turn, her feathery hair twirling with her. The darkness pushed in before she could see her face, her eyes heavy with the weight of exhaustion, and as she fell into a deep sleep, she breathed out one quiet word.

". . . Farah . . ."


	6. Chapter 6 - Could It Be?

You don't know how many times I had to redo this. I'm so sorry this was so late! There's been a lot going on. But I'm still here, so thanks for reading! I'll try to get a more consistent schedule in the future. Also some more fun chapters coming up, so wooo!

Chapter 6 – Could It Be?

Smoke hung in the air, settling in thick clouds along the rough walls. It smelled faintly of burnt clothes. Directly across from her was a large, heavy set of double doors, etched with markings and as violet as the walls surrounding it. She walked towards it, drawn to it, though she wasn't sure why. She reached out with both hands, pushed; the door gave with a creaking groan, and a sudden blast of wind roared through the room, towards the crack between the doors. Frisk felt something grazing her from behind; she turned her head to see snow showering her, but it wasn't cold. It stuck to her face, and she wiped at it with a finger; it smeared off, a chalky grit. Looking back, there was a cloud of the strange snow, blowing over a pile of clothes, purple and white. She stared at the clothes, eyes squinting as the snowstorm buffeted her; it stung her eyes, coated her clothes. She raised a hand to cover her face, took a step towards the clothes. The pitter-patter of water hitting the floor echoed in the room; Frisk paid it no mind, took another step. They were different now, a red scarf atop some kind of costume. One more step. The sound got louder and louder with each drop, and the wind howled through the open door. A pair of rough denim jeans and a collared shirt, maroon, now lay on the ground.

Frisk strode toward them, fist clenched. There was a knife in her hands now. Or had it always been there? Blood poured from her hand; she'd been gripping the knife by the blade, and it had sliced her fingers. She ignored it, knelt by the clothes pile. Plunged the knife straight in.

The pile changed again; a blue shirt with white birds and a pile of shorts.

Frisk's blood soaked into the pile. There was something behind her now, from the darkness beyond the door, but she couldn't tear her eyes from the clothes. The knife clattered to the ground as her breathing sped up, hands grabbing her head. Her nails dug into her temples, drawing fat rivulets of blood. She'd . . . she'd . . .

Someone was right behind her. She couldn't turn to look. She felt eyes boring into her.

If it wasn't for him . . . no, if it wasn't for her . . .

 _Make it stop!_ She cried out in her mind, nails now scratching, raking, her hair matted to her head in thick clumps of auburn stained red. She wanted to cry. She wanted to scream. She wanted to run away. She leapt up on shaky legs, racing for the open door, but it was no longer the violet door, but the room in Toriel's house. No, it was her old room, the one she'd shared with Farah. No, it was the old kitchen. There was a man there, maroon collared shirt, holding a girl that looked like her by the throat, wearing a blue shirt with white –

She awoke with a gasp, soaked with sweat. She sucked in great gulps of breath, more; she felt like she couldn't breathe, and her hands were claws nearly ripping the blanket she'd been covered with. Where was she?

It took a few moments, but she managed to calm herself with a heavy swallow. She was home, in her room. She must've fallen asleep and someone brought her back here. Just another bad dream. They were getting worse. She'd . . . when the other had taken control, that first time. Frisk hadn't been awake for it, but she saw it in her dreams. Did her mother remember her betrayal? Did it matter if she didn't? It didn't mean it didn't happen, after all.

It was her fault; if she hadn't been so weak, if she hadn't given in to her desire for violence after that night, then her reflection would never have had the strength to take over. She responded to Frisk's emotions; when Frisk had refused to hurt anyone else, when Frisk had forced that ultimate reset to ensure everyone had a happy ending, the other Frisk had gone along with it. By the end, they'd even seemed to have helped her; she couldn't have stopped Asriel without her. Without Chara.

But it was her fault that Farah was gone, and she was never coming back.

She lay on the soft bed, staring at her outstretched hand as the thoughts roiled in her head. Why? Why was she still alive? Why her? She wasn't the better of the two; she wasn't the one that deserved to live.

" . . . ta keep an eye on her. somethin's not right, i'm tellin' ya," she heard Sans' voice down the hallway. He was still here?

"Yes, she does seem . . . quite distant, sometimes. She's so mature, it almost worries me," Toriel replied with a chuckle. Frisk didn't think she sounded particularly amused, though.

"mature, huh? yeah, that's one way to put it."

They were talking about her. Frisk had never thought of herself as especially mature. Was she really such a bother? What would be better?

"she's too nice; she puts the world on her shoulders. kiddo needs to take a break every once in a a while."

"Why don't we plan a fun day out? We could all use a breather and it'll be a nice way to reward her. Maybe the aquarium?"

"water good idea."

"I trout so too!" They both laughed at that; Frisk liked hearing them enjoy themselves. Those two were always so goofy together. She wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but she couldn't exactly help it; it sounded like they were right by her door.

Frisk tried to get to her feet; her head was feeling better, though she was still a bit dizzy. The ice pack was still cold, which meant that one of them had replaced it while she slept, which Frisk was very grateful for, but her eye was still tender to the touch. At least she could still see out of it.

She wondered where Chara had gone. She'd heard her voice, during that short eternity in the Underground, had gotten to know her. Gotten to love her, too, as family. Someone who understood what it meant to lose someone, to make a mistake. She'd taken from her, yes. But she'd given so much more. Frisk had long since forgiven her; in truth, there was little to forgive. She'd done what she thought was right, and made amends after she'd realized she was wrong. Frisk had felt her, in a sense. They'd not just shared a body; they'd shared minds. She felt her anguish during the final battle against Asriel, felt her resolve and fury. Her last words still rang in her head at night.

 _"_ _Later, partner."_ So cool, so confident. Reluctant at first, but a hero nonetheless. Frisk hoped she was happy, wherever she was. She deserved it.

It was time to take a step forward. She could only look back for so long; her family was outside, waiting for her. It filled her with a bubbly feeling, effervescent pearls of delight rising above the clouds of doubt and fear. She didn't consider herself to be an especially eager person, but the exception was for her family and friends. For them, she was as enthusiastic as the rooster for the morning sun.

"EGADS! BAD JOKES EVEN RUIN GOOD IDEAS!" Oh! Papyrus was here! Frisk dashed over to the door, maybe a bit faster than she should have, as she hit the door with a thud. She couldn't help it, though; who else had come? She was so excited; she was always reluctant to ask, but she loved having company over, and Papyrus was one of her best friends (though to be honest, she couldn't really rank them as they were all so wonderful), always so earnest and fun to be around. He'd been busy recently, working at the nearby day care after one of the caretakers had to go on maternity leave, so Frisk hadn't seen him in some time. Well, actually, it hadn't been that long, maybe a few days more than usual, but to Frisk every day and night felt like ages.

"HMM?" Footsteps thumped over to the door, and it opened with a sure but gentle pull, spilling Frisk onto Pap's shins. He caught her with quick hands as he cried out, "AH! YOU'RE AWAKE! LIKELY THANKS TO THE DELECTABLE AROMA OF MY IRRESISTIBLE CUISINE!" Now that he mentioned it, she could smell something in the air. Garlic and tomato? How'd she miss it? Maybe she just wasn't paying any attention.

"Hey, Papyrus!" Frisk giggled as she clung to his legs in a tight hug. Toriel and Sans came over, asking how she felt and worrying over her, and Frisk hugged them both as well, though she gave Mom the biggest hug (of course!). "I'm okay, thanks."

"Oh, sweetie, don't worry me like that!" Toriel hung on to Frisk, cradling her. Frisk almost wanted to cry; it truly was so wonderful, having people worry and care about her.

"Sorry," Frisk apologized as Toriel ushered her down the hall where everyone was waiting. She caught Sans' eye as she walked past, and offered an apology by way of a smile. Sans waved her off with a shrug and a grin of his own; they'd talk later. He knew she was trying her best, right?

Undyne and Alphys were out in the living room, evidently watching something on TV, but rose to their feet as soon as Frisk and the rest walked in.

"H-hey Frisk! How're you feeling? I mean, probably not great, considering, you know . . . but, uh . . . " Alphys asked, trailing off as she went. Frisk shot her a thumbs-up to show she was fine before rushing over to the couch to give the scientist a hug as well. And, well, she couldn't leave Undyne out of the hug fiesta, now could she?

"Haw! Full of spit and vinegar, I told ya she'd be fine! She's had worse than a little black eye!" Boy, if only she knew. "Sorry Asgore couldn't make it, by the way, but he sent over these," Undyne gestured over to the bouquet on the coffee table. Inside it was a very sweet and touching handwritten note praising her and wishing her to feel better before apologizing but he was stuck handling very urgent matters. Frisk hugged the letter too, trying to send it to Asgore. It would have to do for now.

"that's fuzzybuns for ya, always thin-king of you," Sans chuckled, eliciting some groans from the others. Frisk wondered if she would sprain something, she was grinning so wide. It certainly wasn't the worst problem to have!

"PLEASE, NO. YOU'LL RUIN MY PASTA WITH YOUR RANCID WORDPLAY!"

"no more, i promise. you can crown-t on me."

"Now, now, don't throne him for a loop, Sans!" Toriel joined in. Poor Papyrus. He never had a chance.

"AAH! I'M RETURNING TO MY COOKING! AT LEAST I CAN ALWAYS TRUST MY POTS!"

"those are tori's, remember?"

"NYOO HOO HOOOO!" Papyrus dashed into the kitchen, covering his ears from the relentless auditory assault.

Frisk followed Papyrus into the kitchen, desperately trying to stifle her laughter; Papy needed her, now more than ever! After calming him down with a brief discussion of the daily jumble in the paper, she helped him as the sous-chef, handing him ingredients and taste-testing for that missing something. He'd actually gotten much better at cooking, his constant practice paying off, and though it was sometimes . . . eclectic, to say the least, it was always cooked with care and energy. He'd offered to cook tonight to help ease Mom's load, since she'd been quite frazzled by today by the sounds of it (Frisk still felt bad; she'd have to make it up to her somehow). Frisk was grateful for his thoughtfulness.

"DINNER IS SERVED!" Papyrus had brought the large pot out to the waiting monsters, lifting the lid with a flourish that produced quite the heroic flutter in his scarf. It was spaghetti, of course, but there were plenty of tasty meatballs (that Frisk had helped roll!) and the sauce, though a bit sweet and with an odd taste that Frisk was sure was soy sauce, though where he'd gotten it was a mystery, but it was very good, and enjoying it with the others made it that much better. She was glad that Toriel had gone for such a large dining table; she must have planned for such big gatherings. Frisk had chosen to sit next to Mom (of course!), with Papyrus on her right. Undyne and Alphys sat next to each other, with Sans directly across from her. She waved to him with a giggle as they ate and talked about the various goings-on in their lives.

Undyne had informed them that the man in black had been taken into proper custody over in Day, but they'd keep them in the loop regarding interrogation and relevant court dates. Technically, even though it was a monster victim, as a human perpetrator, he fell under their jurisdiction. Frisk was curious as to why he'd even try to, but something about it gave her a bad feeling. She pushed it aside; for now, at least, all was well.

Alphys had been eagerly awaiting this week's episode of "Mew Mew Magic Honey," a spinoff of her favorite show that, while not quite as good, still managed to capture the spirit of the original while taking it in an entirely new and fresh direction with wonderful characters that embodied love and hope and they'd ended the last episode on a cliffhanger and she wasn't sure if they'd be able to synchronize their magic drives in time and –

Anyway, it was a really good show and they should totally give it a watch.

Papyrus had actually informed them that he and Undyne were going to be entering the upcoming Ultimate Mudder obstacle race as partners! They'd been training in their spare time, and were thoroughly motivated to win. Although "winning" was maybe an understatement; Undyne had roared how they would "crush everyone beneath the iron heels of the ROYAL GUARD NGAAAAAH," ending her motivational rant with a fist to the table that miraculously both didn't crush it and didn't topple any of the food or drinks, but earned her a stern look from Toriel. Frisk wished them good luck; she'd cheer from the sidelines!

And what about Sans?

"you know. nappin' and grillbin'. the usual." Frisk wondered if he was just playing coy; Sans could be a world-class poker player, he was so unreadable. But as long as he was happy (and he certainly was, Frisk had made sure of that), then she was, too.

They finished the meal with a delicious cinnamon-butterscotch pie that Toriel had baked special for tonight. Frisk savored every bite of it, letting the taste of it soak into her tongue and fill her with a warmth that she wanted to never leave. Sans teased her for it, all in good fun, but Frisk didn't let it stop her. It was more than scrumptious; it was everything good she'd found in the Underground, every happy memory and every bright star. It was love and light, and Frisk wished this night, with her friends and family (if only Asgore could have been here!) would never end.

Although, technically, it didn't have to. The thought had crossed her mind, many times before. If she wanted, if she really wanted to, the night could last as long as she wanted. She never had to face tomorrow. She could stay here and love and be loved. But she knew that wasn't an option; as tempting as it was, it wasn't right to abuse her power like that. It would be trapping them here, never letting them move forward. She could never do that to her loved ones. Was it wrong of her to even think of it in the first place?

The night did end. After helping to clean up the dishes and bidding fond farewells, with plenty of hugs and ruffled hair, Papyrus, Sans, Undyne, and Alphys left for homes of their own (although Papy and Sans didn't really have far to go). Toriel and Frisk were left in their quiet, comfy house, Toriel in her armchair and Frisk on her lap, leaned into her. She smelled of cinnamon and baking flour.

"Did you have fun having everyone over tonight, dear?" Toriel asked, rubbing Frisk's head with a gentle paw. Frisk nodded, rubbing against Tori with her cheek. "I'm so glad. You know, I'm so proud of you for what you did for the Margarets. You're a wonderful child, Frisk. I love you."

Toriel leaned down to kiss Frisk on the head. Frisk finally cracked; a single tear ran down her cheek, tracing the shaking smile on her face. Frisk reached up and kissed Mom on the cheek, whispering in a cracked voice. She didn't know if she deserved this; it felt like she didn't. But she wanted it, so, so badly. And she was so thankful for it.

". . . I love you more than anything, Mom."


	7. Chapter 7 - Thoughtfulness

Thanks so much to everyone that read and especially to those that left a comment! It really means a lot to me, and I'll be trying to reply to everyone. Only a few more days of summer! Hope they're good for all of you. I've been really busy lately so not as much time to write. Hopefully I can get the next update up by the weekend and get back on track!

Chapter 7 - Thoughtfulness

The wind was howling, a raging storm that blew at Frisk's hair and tore at her sweater. It seemed to bite her even through the thick cotton, whipping her cold sweat into her eyes and exacerbating her shivers. She grabbed herself, wrapped herself in her arms, clutching at her shoulders as her stomach retched. God, but dying never got easier. She could still _feel_ it, the spear piercing through her, the horrible, enveloping numbness as her life poured out from her, the aching wheeze of punctured lungs. Pain assaulted her, in every sense of the word. She couldn't help but wonder . . . was this how Farah had felt, when she'd died? Cold and alone? The very thought hurt worse than anything that could be inflicted on her.

 _Hey . . . it's okay. You're okay. We're okay._

That's right. She wasn't alone. Chara was here, with her. Frisk swallowed hard, nodded her head, but she still couldn't stop shaking. The mountain loomed over her, the shadow of death so overwhelming it could have been tangible. But she had to move forward. This was the only way.

 _You're still hesitating. Don't close your eyes; don't flinch away. See everything._

". . . right," Frisk nodded. But the spear in her hand . . . even if she only blocked with it, the feeling of it in her hands . . .

 _. . . I'm sorry. It's my fault you . . ._

Frisk shook her head; _please, don't. It's not your fault. We're in this together . . . right, partner?_

 _Heh. That's right. Remember, I'm right here with you. We can do this._

They could do this. They could save everyone, get it right this time. Redemption, for both of them. Frisk rose to her feet.

The wind was howling. It only fueled the fires of her determination.

She took a step forward. Undyne roared out her challenge in reply as she leaped down from the peak. Frisk brandished the spear that she had thrown down for them, hardened it with resolve. She could see the outline of a second pair of hands along the shaft, next to hers, faint but strong. Frisk smiled, could feel the fierce grin that Chara wore in response. They stood together, the last two humans in the Underground, ready to face the Captain of the Royal Guard with everything they had –

The sing-song sound of birds chirping outside her window woke Frisk up, the young girl rubbing her eyes as she tried to blink the sleep out of them. She'd actually slept well for the second half of the night, which was saying something for her. She glanced at her hand, stretched it out in front of her. Her dreams were varied, often stretching the boundary between memory and nightmare, but remembering the . . . better times with Chara was something that came up infrequently but was always a welcome alternative. It reminded her of having a sister again. Who could have guessed how close the two of them would grow?

It had been nearly a week since the incident at the Margarets' had occurred, and the would-be kidnapper (his name, coincidentally enough, was Shane Black) hadn't said much yet; he was waiting to hear back from his lawyer, maybe? She thought that was what Undyne had said. She'd been zoning out a bit more since then . . . there were things she didn't want to think about, and it felt like they were always trying to catch up to her.. She was tired of thinking.

She was tired of a lot of things.

At least Sans seemed to have taken a step back; he hadn't pushed her on their "talk." Maybe he'd forgotten about it? Or just didn't feel like it? Maybe it had been a prank or something. Either way, things had been a bit . . . tense between them since then. Frisk wanted to bridge the gap; she wanted them to be such close friends, she wanted him to like her. But things always seemed to find some way to get tangled. It was her fault; sometimes, she couldn't get the memories of that terrible encounter out of her head. Sometimes, she could swear she could see herself still standing there, covered in dust, in the dark recesses of his eye sockets. At least he couldn't see it. She wouldn't wish those memories on anyone.

Frisk pushed herself out of her comfy bed, rolling her shoulders and being rewarded with a satisfying crack in the back of her neck that gave her tingles; my, but that was satisfying. She pulled out a her clothes for the day: a blue and purple long-sleeved shirt adorned with the triangle runes that Toriel always wore (made special for her! She hugged it to her chest excitedly before continuing) and a pair of clean-trimmed shorts with black leggings. It had been getting cooler recently, summer starting to come to a close, so she decided that a little more layering would be nice. She tucked everything under her arm and marched over to the bathroom, taking a moment to notice that Toriel's door was open. Curious, she peered in; empty. She plodded out to the living room still in her bright red nightgown, looked into the kitchen, back into her study. Empty. A pang of panic shot through her; had something happened? She wouldn't . . . just leave, right? She went back to the kitchen, her pace rising rapidly with her pulse, her eyes darting around the room. Ah! There, on the floor; she'd left a note. A breeze from the open window must've knocked it down. Frisk almost burst into laughter in relief as she picked up the small piece of paper. Mom had written a message in her flowery handwriting that seemed to fly across the page, and the letters sparkled with glittery purple ink.

 _Frisk,_

 _I am next door with Sans and Papyrus if you wake up before I am back. Do not worry! I will return before 8:00. With a surprise! Does telling you that there is a surprise ruin the surprise? I hope not!_

 _I love you dear!_

 _~Toriel_

The young girl hugged the note to herself with a musical chirp of amusement, wiggling in delight before dashing back to her room to deposit the precious memory safely with the others in the second drawer of her nightstand, back behind her socks. Frisk saved every single letter, message, memo, and note that Toriel (or anyone, but her especially) wrote to her; it made her feel special, reading the words of affection. They were treasures all of them, tucked away in her chest. It was a perfect hiding spot; who would ever think to look behind her socks? She wasn't sure why she needed to hide them, but she'd be embarrassed if anyone found them. Maybe she'd save up to get a little box with a lid to put them in to keep them clean.

Satisfied, Frisk walked back to the bathroom, locking the door behind her as she set her clothes on the counter and turned to the shower. She glanced down again at the rubber ducky, staring at her, a forlorn look plastered on his little yellow face and orange beak.

 _Sorry, Quackers!_ She thought to herself, patting the duck on the head. She only had a half-hour until Toriel got back, and she wanted to be quick. Next time for sure!

Stripping off her clothes, Frisk hopped into the shower and turned the water on, only twisting the red knob a tiny bit; she was in the mood for a cool shower this morning, wake her up and get her focused. The spray hit her with a rush, running through her hair and down her back before pattering onto the decorative mat below, sea turtles and coral reefs to match the clownfish and angelfish on the shower curtain. Her toes rubbed at the safety grips on the mat (Toriel insisted), and her feet squeaked every time she pivoted.

As she reached for the shampoo and began to squirt some into her hand, Frisk found herself humming a tune to herself, softly. The song from the lonely statue had found its way into her mind, and she scrubbed her hair to the beat, her eyes squeezed tight to keep the stinging suds out. This was nice. Just her and the water. Sometimes she needed these quiet moments. Sometimes she desperately wanted some kind of attention or distraction, yes, something to keep her occupied and her mind from wandering; but right now, at this moment, this was nice.

She splashed one more handful of water through her hair, pushing it back out of her face before turning the water off and letting it drip off of her for a bit before stepping out of the tub and onto one of the soft bathmats, careful not to get any water on the floor. She grabbed her little towel off of the rack, a smiling skull and crossbones that she'd picked out because it had reminded her of Papyrus and Sans. She knew that it was actually about pirates or something, but Papy and Sans were definitely much cooler. Papyrus was even the #1 Cool Guy, in fact!

As she dried herself off, she heard the creak and bang of the front door opening and closing; Mom must be back! She finished getting cleaned up at super-speed, scrubbing herself down with the towel before practically flying into her clothes and brushing her teeth fast enough to make even Thundersnail blush. She ran her comb a couple times through her hair to get it straight, placing it back into her drawer and making sure everything was back nice and neat before grabbing her old clothes and tossing them into her hamper. All finished, she dashed into the kitchen to see not just Toriel, but the Skeleton brothers too! And they were both up! . . . seemingly. Sans could be napping standing with his eyes open (she'd seen it once before and still didn't understand how). Papyrus was holding something, a box? Undeterred, Frisk guided herself like a tiny human cruise missile straight into Toriel's open arms.

"Well, good morning to you too, my little wet head!" Toriel scooped up Frisk, the small child gasping in delight as the goat monster rubbed against her damp hair, tousling it.

"hey there, mop top," Sans waved up at her. Frisk waved back down at both him and Papyrus, thoroughly enjoying her moment of unsurpassed height.

"My damp dearie!"

"wet willie."

"Squeaky clean sweetie!"

"soaked squirt."

"ENOUGH! PLEASE," Papyrus finally burst out, stopping the competition. They'd tied, 3-3; Frisk declared Toriel the winner and undisputed champion by default. Sans would understand, she was sure.

"I'm sorry I was out, Frisk, but we wanted to surprise you!" Toriel set Frisk down as she spoke. "First . . ."

"WE BROUGHT DONUTS!" Papyrus showed off the bright orange box of pastries proudly before slamming them onto the table. "I PICKED ONLY THE FINEST OF THE BAKER'S DOZEN! SPRINKLES! CREAM-FILLED! SOMETHING ELSE! AFTER ALL, WE CAN HAVE ONLY THE BEST FOR OUR BIG DAY! AND BY BEST I MEAN WORST, AS THEY ARE VERY UNHEALTHY. BUT QUITE DELICIOUS!"

Frisk cocked her head at that, looking up between the three of them, her brow furrowed in a quizzical look; was today important? She had some business to attend to, but other than that she couldn't think of anything. She hoped she hadn't forgotten anything important.

"You see, we've been planning this for some time now, and I know how much you love fish, so I went over to have Sans help me print these out on the computer. . ." Toriel trailed off, looking over at Sans. He seemed to have fallen asleep.

" . . . Sans?" She nudged him.

"hmm? oh, yeah, here," Sans woke up and pulled out a piece of paper from his pocket, handing it to Frisk. It was a color print-out of a ticket, like you'd see at a raffle. Frisk glanced down at it, even more confused, before looking back up at Toriel for clarification.

"Well? What do you thi-" Toriel asked, excited, only to notice the paper Frisk was holding. "Um, Sans, wrong ticket."

"oh, yeah," Sans chuckled. "woops. here ya go, kiddo." This time he handed over a hand-drawn picture of a ticket. It was in crayon and had a certain aesthetic quality to it that belied its outer amateurishness. It . . . wasn't good . . . but then, who was she to judge? What if she were the amateur, and this the masterpiece? What looked like coloring outside the lines was actually the hand of a master, unbound by conventional thought and rules. Frisk nodded, appreciating it for what it said about the true meaning of art, and what was a ticket, truly? However, she was still at a loss as to what was actually going on.

"Sans," Toriel stared down at him with an annoyed look that she usually reserved for Asgore.

"oh, you meant _that_ ticket," Sans shrugged, before pulling out another print-out. Frisk looked down at this one, reading it over:

 **One (1) Child Admittance – Zelienople City Aquarium**

 **All Day Pass - Thank you for your patronage and we hope you enjoy your day with us!**

"You've been very busy this summer, and you're always such a good girl, so I thought that we could have some fun! You won't need to worry about your work today; Asgore and I have finished everything that needed doing early to clear up a whole day devoted to us! What do you think?"

"YES, FRISK! ARE YOU AS EXCITED FOR THE DAY OF AQUATIC MERRIMENT AS I CLEARLY AM?! IF NOT I CAN HELP!"

"we made sure everyone could make it. whadda ya think? don't clam up on us now."

Frisk stood there, still staring down at the ticket, processing just what exactly it meant. They'd . . . they'd gone through all this effort. Toriel had worked extra hard, and Sans had said that everyone was coming? They could have picked anything, but they picked the aquarium . . . because they knew that she would like it? She . . . she didn't understand. Why would they do so much for her? Why were they so nice and wonderful to her? Why, why, why?

" . . . Frisk? Is everything all right, my child?" Toriel asked. Her voice was a bit hesitant.

Frisk grabbed all three of them in as big of a hug as she could possibly manage, burying her face into Toriel's robes. Her eyes were damp, and it was everything she had to keep the tears from spilling. She didn't like to cry, but they kept making it so easy. She loved them so, so much. Her voice barely squeaked out, but it carried all of her heart and soul.

"Thank you . . . thank you, thank you, thank you!"

She felt them answer her hug in kind, felt Toriel's hand on her back, pulling her closer. It felt good to love and to be loved.


	8. Chapter 8 - Limits

Hey guess what, I didn't meet meet my schedule. Surprise! Maybe next time. I passed my Praxis test though so that's cool. I'll have more time to devote to writing and less to studying now. As always, thanks for reading and for any feedback or follows or such, it's all appreciated!

Chapter 8 - Limits

The grass whizzed past in a blur, the steady green sometimes replaced with the flashing gray of a guardrail and spots of blue and white from patches of wildflowers, chicory and forget-me-nots vibrant and blooming, even this late in the summer. Frisk kept her face peeled to the window, her nose pressing up on the glass and leaving little trails of fog when she breathed out. She hadn't been this excited in a long time. Normally, she didn't like going into the city, but an event like this was more than capable of overpowering her reluctance; and besides, they'd thankfully taken a more roundabout route. She wondered if there would be billboards or signs for the aquarium; she wanted to see them all, take in everything.

Toriel was driving them in her royal purple minivan (she didn't trust Sans behind the wheel with Frisk in the car). She'd actually become a very good driver, much quicker than Frisk had expected. All of them had gotten used to the Surface at a surprising pace; there were still many things for them to learn, yes, but Frisk was amazed at their adaptability. But then, they were all so amazing, she expected nothing less.

As she drove, Toriel was humming along to a catchy song on the radio. Frisk had always thought that she had a beautiful singing voice; sometimes, she'd catch her singing quietly to herself as she cooked or baked, ancient words to long-forgotten lullabies or melodies. Sans sat beside her up-front, serving as the navigator. That . . . was a questionable decision, in her opinion. He was more like a _never-_ gator if you asked her. Get it? They kinda sounded similar. Like, navi-gator, and never-gator, and she was insinuating that he wasn't very skilled at the task.

Frisk wasn't as good at this as her mom or Sans.

Papy was in the back with her, and he kept himself entertained easily enough with chatting with Sans and Toriel. Asgore and the others were taking his truck; they wouldn't all fit in one vehicle, so they'd decided to split into two groups and meet up at the aquarium. And as much as Papyrus wanted to take the race car he'd finally gotten and always dreamed of (it was red with flames on the side, which meant it went faster than other cars), it had two distinct problems: it was too small for all four of them to fit comfortably, and also they all wanted to live. Nothing against Papyrus' driving, he was good! He just got, uh, excited. Which meant fast, very fast. The last time that Frisk rode with him, she'd stumbled on the way out, certain that the driveway was moving under her feet.

It meant a lot to Frisk that Toriel had invited Asgore specifically; she knew things were still sore between the two of them, but that they were still willing to move forward was a good sign. And this way she got to see both of them!

Still, though, this whole thing was almost . . . surreal. Watching the trees fly past. She never thought she'd come back to this city, much less be excited to. But at the same time, there was a nervous flutter in her chest, and when she set her hand on the warm window, she saw how her fingers trembled against the glass. What was she scared of? She'd faced death so many times. The crowds? She'd worked with Asgore in assembly halls full of diplomats and delegates (it helped that she could see every argument the other side would put forth and go back and prepare for them). This was silly. She was so excited!

And yet.

What if he was there? Her father. She didn't know why he would be.

But even so.

What if he was?

She was closer to that house (she wouldn't call it her home, that was with Toriel) than she'd been in two months. These people . . . what if they knew? What if something happened? Would someone point her out? Call someone, take her away?

She couldn't help but feel sometimes that she was a kite on a threadbare string, tossed about in the wind, and that one day someone would cut her string and send her back into that tempest. What if all of this was just a bad joke, a prank, and this day would be taken from her?

No, now she was being unfair. Sans wouldn't do that. It had been so long since that night at the Resort. When he'd –

"hey, kiddo, you ever play the license plate game?"

Frisk flinched at the sudden question, her head snapping back into the seat as her eyes locked onto the source, taking a moment to process just what exactly was going on. Sans was glancing back from the front seat, though he shifted uncomfortably at her reaction. Not in the Resort, not in the Judgment Hall. Not anywhere but here. It was just her friend Sans, her family, the one who'd helped make all of this possible, and she was ashamed of herself. Ashamed that she'd think ill of him, and that she still couldn't keep herself in check.

"uh, you okay?" Sans asked, twisting around further in his seat to get a better look. Frisk waved him off with a chuckle, explaining that she was just excited about the day.

"We can stop if something's wrong, dear," Toriel offered, glancing back in the rearview mirror. Frisk gave her a smile back, shaking her head; she was fine! Perfectly fine. Everything was fine. She was determined to make this day special.

What had Sans asked? She didn't want it to seem like she was ignoring him. Something about a game?

"I'm sorry. What did you . . ." She asked, hoping Sans would just move back to his question.

"huh? oh, um, yeah," Sans scratched at his cheekbone with a shrug before continuing. Frisk wondered what he was thinking. What was going on in his head? In all of their heads. What did they really think? She supposed she'd never really know. Maybe she didn't want to after all. "the license plate game. ever played it?"

Frisk shook her head; she thought she'd heard of it from somewhere, but didn't know much else. Before, if they were in a car, they were to be quiet. She was very good at the quiet game.

"oh, just figured you had. it's pretty easy, you just gotta find plates that match all the states. first one to get them all wins. it even rhymes. convenient, huh?"

"OH, THAT SOUNDS FUN!" Papyrus cheered, somehow sitting up even straighter. "I ACCEPT YOUR PLATE CHALLENGE." He always loved a good (friendly) competition; maybe Undyne's influence? Frisk wasn't sure it was necessarily fair, though; did they even know all 50 states? They'd only been up top for a couple of months now. Actually, wait, how would Sans even know about the game? When would he have been on a road trip?

Sans caught the questions from her questioning eyes and just shrugged his shoulders, his characteristic grin widening.

"i picked it up a little from here, a little from there. you know how it goes." Well, no, she really didn't, but that was fine.

"I'd join in, but I need to plate attention to the road! Hee hee," Toriel chuckled, earning her a wink from Sans and a pair of finger guns. Frisk just puffed her cheek.

"THERE'S ONE! OH, THERE'S ANOTHER ONE! WAIT, ARE 'VIRGINIA' AND 'WEST VIRGINIA' DIFFERENT?" Papyrus pointed at a pair of cars that just sped past on the passing lane, a blue Subaru and a silver sports car that Frisk didn't recognize. She nodded her head.

"NYEH HEH HEH! THAT'S TWO FOR THE GREAT PAPYRUS!" He boasted with eyes closed (why did his eyes close but Sans' didn't? Huh). Unfortunately, that was all they needed, as a trio of New England states overtook them, knocking out Papyrus' lead.

"Three," Frisk raised her index, middle, and ring fingers for emphasis, wiggling them in the air and snapping Papyrus back into enraptured focus. A fire had been lit under him, a sleeping giant awakened, and his resolution to find all 50 states was truly a sight to behold (Frisk didn't have the heart to tell him that he probably wouldn't see most of them, since the country was so big). It was . . . fun. It was an odd feeling.

This whole day felt strange, and it hadn't really even started yet. When was the last time she'd taken a day off? It still felt weird, like she was doing something wrong, even though they'd assured her that everything had been handled. It wasn't like she didn't want to spend the day with them; she'd dreamed of moments like this for years. But after everything that had happened, it felt wrong to actually enjoy herself. Was that . . . bad?

Was she?

"don't zone out now, he's getting ahead," Sans chimed in, snapping Frisk out of her thoughts. She'd been doing that a lot, lately. She took a deep breath; she wouldn't let herself ruin this day. This was gonna be great!

"New York!" She called out, pointing at the RV that had merged in front of them.

"nice," Sans gave her a thumbs-up. "you sure you've never played? you're pretty good."

Frisk just giggled and kept looking. She knew Sans was just being silly.

"so, you've never gone into the city or been to the aquarium before?" Sans asked another pair of questions. He was being more talkative than usual, it felt. Well, that wasn't true, Sans wasn't especially quiet per se; he was more . . . questioning? Frisk didn't know how to put it, but she could tell something was different. The slight look Toriel gave to Sans after he finished speaking was a bit telling, too. What it was saying, Frisk didn't know, but she was sure it was saying something. Or maybe not; Frisk sometimes looked too far into things. Bad habit.

". . . not like this, no," Frisk replied, eyes focused outside the window again. "New York."

"repeat. doesn't count."

"Oh." Oops.

"WELL, THIS IS OUR FIRST TIME TOO, FRISK! SO LET'S . . . HAVE A GREAT DAY TOGETHER! AND YOU CAN SHOW ME YOUR FAVORITE FISH!"

Frisk turned from the window, looking over at Papyrus. He had his hand stretched over across the seat towards her, palm up, with a massive smile that didn't hide the concern in his eyes. Papyrus really was the best kind of person. Frisk took his hand with a wide grin of her own, and his eyes lit up as he gave her hand a squeeze. That was better. She thought she could see Toriel watching them from the rearview mirror. She gave her a wave, just in case.

After one wrong turn (Sans hit a wrong button on the GPS), a close call involving a monster that had just started learning how to drive, and twenty out of fifty license plates, they arrived at the Zelienople City Aquarium a little after noon. They followed the attendant's instructions in the parking lot, driving past the clownfish, the octopus, and the starfish lots before ending up in Dolphin-5 (Frisk made sure to memorize it, as the attendant warned them about losing their car). He was a little nervous speaking to Toriel with Sans looking over from the passenger seat, but much more composed than many others who had seen monsters for the first time. Frisk found out why when they'd gotten on the shuttle that would take them to the aquarium itself: there were some other monster families here! Not many, just one family of distant relatives of the Margarets, but Frisk was excited to see that others were integrating more into the world above. Ideally, they could build a world where everyone was happy and treated equally well, so seeing any little bit of progress made Frisk feel that much more accomplished. Maybe she'd helped?

The budding excitement inside Frisk started to truly bloom once the shuttle got close enough for them to see the front gate. Large blue waves cascaded over pillars adorned with cute, googly-eyed flounders and starfish, with a pair of dolphins leaping over the "Welcome!" sign, beckoning to her. Even more appealing than the decorations, however, were the people waiting for them at the shuttle stop: Asgore, Undyne, Alphys, even Mettaton was here! Gripping Toriel's hand tightly, Frisk forced herself to wait for the tram to come to a stop and for her mother to rise before hopping off and dashing to her family, arms wide.

She wasn't going to let anything get in the way of this moment.


	9. Chapter 9 - Do It for Them

It's me I'm back!

Chapter 9 – Do it for Them

Frisk held Toriel and Asgore's hands (she couldn't choose one or the other, she loved them both!) as they all walked up towards the main entrance, tickets at the ready. Asgore was looking quite tropical; he had on a bright Hawaiian shirt that prominently featured palm trees and parrots, and a straw hat that his horns were comically poking out of. The first time that Frisk saw him, majestic and terrifying in his cloak and armor, she would have never imagined seeing him in such casual clothes, but now she felt like this suited him much more than the regal garb. He seemed happier now, too, though there were still those traces of sadness that would creep into his eyes sometimes, during quiet moments when the work was done and there was nothing to do but watch the tea grounds settle into the bottom of the steaming cup. He'd look at her, sometimes, in those instances, steal glances from the corner of his eye. She'd wonder what he was thinking of, then; was he remembering?

She remembered. The flicker of his trident, the sound of blood splashing onto stone. God, did she remember.

That wasn't what she wanted to remember him for; that wasn't what she wanted him to remember. She wanted to give him happy memories. She wanted him to smile more, like he was now. It was a job she was sure she could handle.

Frisk looked back, and saw Alphys and Undyne coming through after a bit of a spat; they'd been in a different line and had gotten some strange looks from the worker, and Undyne, uh, wasn't good at letting things go.

Frisk hopped back, tugging at Alphys' dress as she heard Undyne still grumbling. The scientist was a bit red-faced, and it took a moment to raise her gaze.

". . . I think you look really nice today, Alphys," Frisk smiled, squeezing her hand. She had on a long sun dress, sky-blue and covered in daisies, and it went well with the color of her scales.

"R-really? It's not too much, or u-unflattering, or w-weird . . ." Alphys stammered, wiping away invisible creases.

"Hel – heck no!" Undyne wrapped her arm around the scientist as she grinned one of her wide, toothy smiles. "See, Frisk agrees, you look fantastic! And that punk couldn't lie to save her life!"

Ugh, that one hurt. Frisk kept her grin up, but inside she was recoiling; if only they knew. How they would hate her, if only they could see through the fibs and falsehoods. She didn't like to keep things from them, or to lie, or to hide things; but it – it was for everyone's happiness. They couldn't possibly understand; it would be cruel to do that to them. It was best for them.

So that made it okay, right?

"You look absolutely ravishing, Dr. Alphys!" Mettaton winked; he never went out in public anymore without his NEO body, and the battery pack had been upgraded enough to last the entire day, though he'd still need to stay in his blockier robot body at home. At least, that's what he'd said. "Hmm . . . well, maybe a little more glitter . . ."

"Oh, w-well, thanks Mettaton! And thanks, Frisk! Come on, let's get going!" Alphys walked forward with a step of confidence, only barely avoiding a melted ice cream bar on the ground. Such was her determination, she stepped straight over it, plunging ahead. Undyne shot Frisk an appreciative wink and a slap on the back that Frisk was proud to say only staggered her a bit forward. And she didn't even flinch this time! Well, maybe a little, but no one noticed.

As they entered, Frisk found herself slightly ill-at-ease, glancing around at the crowds around them. At the countless people: adults, children, families hustling and bustling, laughing and talking and smiling. She couldn't understand; she'd dealt with crowds before. Her work required it, and she did what she had to do to protect monsterkind. She'd faced down rooms of hundreds of delegates, had run through a conversation a dozen times with a stubborn ambassador, going back over and over until she'd anticipated every possible argument and shut him down before the entire assembly. So why was this so unsettling? Why was there this stone in the pit of her stomach, burning at her insides?

"Are you all right, dearest?" Toriel asked. Frisk hadn't noticed, but she was staring down at her, concerned. She swallowed, giving her mom's hand a squeeze before nodding with a smile. Of course she was all right; this was going to be so much fun! "We can take it as slow as you'd like. Just let us know."

The first attraction that they made their way to was "Stingray Cove," featuring (surprise!) stingrays! Walking through a decorated archway, they were greeted by a large, shallow pool, made up to look like it was surrounded by rocky shallows and sandy coasts. There was a large gathering of kids and their parents long the rim, with some crying out in shock and joy and pulling hands out of the water when the rays approached.

Frisk walked around the pool with her family, heading for a more isolated part on the far side and peering in over the edge. She didn't want to handle the noise and the crowds, or deal with the weight and prestige of her role as Ambassador right now. She didn't want prying eyes and ears seeing what the "Savior of Monsters" (she didn't like that title) was up to. She just wanted to spend time with her loved ones.

The stingrays were swimming in big groups, gliding through the water on slick wings. Frisk stuck one slender finger in the water, a grim forming on her face as a pair of the rays came over to investigate. They were soft and smooth, and curled around her hand.

"My, they're certainly friendly, aren't they?" Toriel remarked, standing behind Frisk with a paw on her shoulder. Frisk nodded, looking up at her mom before turning her attention back to the water.

"BUT WON'T THEY STING?" Papyrus asked with a touch of concern. Frisk shook her head, hair bobbing to the side with the movement.

"Only if they're scared," she answered, whisper-soft.

"WOWIE! I WANT TO TRY, TOO!" Papyrus walked up, sticking his hand in next to Frisk's. She heard some of the kids laughing; Papyrus' enthusiasm was certainly contagious. But it still made her a bit uncomfortable. She thought she could hear her name mentioned behind turned heads and pointed fingers. Maybe she should have brought a disguise? She pictured herself in a big sun hat with sunglasses and giggled at how silly she'd have looked. She pushed the discomfort out of her mind, focused only on the moment.

"Gentle," she cautioned him. They wouldn't want to hurt or distress them, now. The thought left a bad taste in her mouth. No, focus. Just this moment.

They were the only two of their group willing to take the plunge, so to speak. Toriel and Asgore politely declined, probably so they didn't have to deal with damp fur for the next few hours, which was fair. Mettaton outright refused, for . . . obvious reasons. Alphys, ironically enough, was weirded out and didn't want to touch them; Undyne just laughed (guffawed?) and stayed with her.  
And Sans? He said he was just fine watching, but Frisk caught him exchanging glances with Toriel and Asgore. Specifically, she was pretty sure they were doing it when they thought she wouldn't notice. A mix of relieved, anxious, and worried looks over hushed words.

Had . . . she done something wrong?

Oh. Right. Sometimes, it was so easy to pretend that Sans didn't hate her. But he did, and she could never forget that.

She was just a screw-up, after all; a failure. She could practically hear those words coming from her father's mouth.

But, she could also hear Farah's words, a lightness in the lead around her neck. She missed her. She . . .

She stopped herself. No. She couldn't go there. No, no, no. Just this moment.

She could get her a souvenir. Yes, that would be nice. Farah would appreciate that.

Splashing brought her back; one of the stingrays had been trying to make its way up Papyrus' arm, much to his and Sans' amusement. She wondered how long she'd been zoned out; she had to stop doing that.

Frisk gave a little ray hovering near her one last pat before pulling her hand out of the water, shaking the excess off and drying her hand on her shorts.

"so, where to next?" Sans asked. Frisk shrugged, pointing at him.

"want me to pick?" A nod "yes" in reply. "well, I dunno. let's just see where our bones take us."

That sounded good to everyone else, including Frisk, since they were planning on seeing everything in the Aquarium anyway.

The tiled path led them to one of the aquarium buildings proper, the Saltwater Aquarium. It was a large glass building, bright and shiny in the sunlight, filled to the brim with massive tanks containing sea creatures of all shapes and sizes. It was a wonderland to Frisk, third only to the Underground and to home (home was first!). So many fish of so many colors! She didn't even know so many existed, much less so many species and subspecies. She thought the clownfish were cute, hiding inside of anemones like kids playing hide-and-seek.

"Darlings, this one _has_ to be the best!" Mettaton called out, posing next to one especially dark tank. The fish inside lit up in a dazzling neon display that complemented the idol perfectly, Frisk had to admit.

"Ha ha! How regal," Asgore stood at another tank, pointing out a very frilly and unusual fish. It was bright red with stripes of white, long fins and spines drifting behind it, and it had horns on its head that resembled a crown. Frisk nodded her agreement, walking up and pointing out the informative plaque.

"A 'lionfish,' hmm?" Asgore read it out loud, bending down to see and nearly scraping the glass with his horns. "The bright colors and sharp fins are a warning to other fish to 'stay away!' Intersting!" Frisk agreed.

"hey Paps, these two remind you of anyone?" Sans asked, pointing at a pair of fish with puckered lips that swam around each other. They looked like they were kissing! How sweet.

"HMM . . ." Papyrus crossed his arms, chin in hand, and thought out loud. "AH! DOGAMY AND DOGARESSA!" He snapped his fingers, and the two brothers giggled together.

Alphys was very impressed by the octopus. Frisk stood next to her, watching it watch her with big, bulging eyes as Alphys read the plage with wonder.

" . . . and, and they can even change their skin to mimic their surroundings! How amazing! D-don't you think so, Undyne?"

"Yeah, it's cool, but . . ." Undyne rubbed her hands together, a flash in her eye as she spoke, "I'm waiting for the _good_ stuff. These're all small-fry fish."

"yeah, they're shrimps."

"Exactl- hey!"

As Undyne and Sans bickered, Frisk found herself still with the octopus. It reminded her of Onion-San. It had a tentacle on the glass, over Frisk's hand. When she moved her hand, it would follow her, little suction cups tracking her as she went. Left, right. Left, right. Up? Up. Down. Circle. Draw a star? Hooray!

Finally, Frisk waved goodbye as she hurried off to catch up with some of the others, taking Toriel's hand with a hum and a smile.

The stranger fish were up ahead. Everyone liked the sea horses, and the starfish were . . . charming. Frisk shied away from the moray eels when they walked past, pushing herself into her mom's side (she wrapped a protective arm around her and hurried past). But what really caught Frisk's interest was the big cylindrical tank in the middle of the room. Strange pink domes were floating around, pulsing occasionally to an unknown beat to push themselves, and they had long, dangling tentacles. They seemed to ebb and flow with the currents, no eyes or ears or mouths, nothing!

Frisk walked up with Toriel, the rest of the group behind her, and just stared at them in wonder.

" . . . wow," was all she could utter. There was something fantastic and wonderful about them, something amazing and comforting. They reminded her of how it felt whenever she went "back," that peaceful, serene nothingness that was only her . . . and Chara.

She should get a gift for Chara, too.

"This says that they're called 'jellyfish.' Hee hee. How appropriate!" Toriel read out.

"wonder what they're jealous of," Sans commented. Frisk didn't get that one, but Toriel and Asgore both laughed.

"Maybe they're looking for peanutbutterfish," Asgore chuckled. Frisk got that one.

"No, they need to watch their weight or they'll be bellyfish!" Toriel tossed her hat into the ring. As a totally nonbiased observed, Frisk concluded that Toriel won again. The young girl laughed and squeezed her mom's hand.

"Haw! That'd be the King, for sure!" Undyne laughed with a wink and an elbow. Asgore chortled along with everyone else's friendly laughter, patting his stomach.

"Yes, the Surface certainly has been good to me," he grinned. Frisk went over and gave him a big hug, craning her neck back to look up at him. Yes, he was definitely better like this.

"WELL, YOU'RE ALL GIVING ME A BELLYACHE, AND I DON'T EVEN HAVE ONE!" Papyrus exclaimed, though Frisk could tell that he didn't really mean it; he was enjoying himself as much as everyone else.

There was one last, big tank in the Saltwater Aquarium, filled with larger fish; mahi mahi she recognized from somewhere (the name had stuck with her), but the rest were new. She watched them swim around laconically, not a care in the world . . . it was relaxing.

Until a flash of motion caught her eye in time to see a swordfish dart straight at the glass. The long, sharp tip hurtling right at her . . .

. . . just like all those times before, tearing through cloth and skin and muscle and bone, leaving her leaking out of pierced holes, and all she could do was look up at Undyne, or Asgore, or the Guards or Doggo or any number of others as everything grew dark . . .

Frisk gasped out loud, one of the rare few exclamations she'd ever let slip, flinching back . . . as the swordfish just swiveled and swam away.

That's right. She shook a bit as she took a deep breath, a humorless laugh escaping her lips. She . . . she was here, at the Aquarium with her family. Not dodging spears or tridents. Not being killed by Undyne or Asgore or . . .

No, no, no, no. Not this again. Please, not now. She had to get a grip, focus; she didn't want to ruin this trip for everyone. Focus. Just this moment. Nothing more.

She was cold, and her hands were still shaking. Sharp pain flared up all over her, and she could remember the cause of each and every one: trident through the chest, spear the her eye, spear through her heart, a cut through her ribs. It shouldn't hurt, since it didn't happen anymore, but all the same, it hurt. It hurt so bad . . .

"Frisk, dear? Are you all right?" Frisk jumped as Toriel laid a hand on her shoulder, but quickly covered it up with a bright smile and pointed at the restroom sign.

" . . . all right. Are . . . are you sure that's all?" Toriel asked. Her face was tinged with worry despite the smile. Frisk nodded "yes," in reply, giving her mom a big hug and kissing her chest; she didn't need to burden and torture her mother with these memories and visions. She loved her too much for that. Just her suffering this was enough.

Even so. She really was the worst, wasn't she?

Frisk walked over to the girls' room, locking the door behind her before nearly throwing herself over the sink, great dry heaves erupting out and tearing through her. She could only weather it, eyes squeezed shut, until after a few long seconds it died down. Once the worst of it was over, she turned on the cold water, splashed some of it on her face. The same ritual as at home. Keep it familiar, bring herself back down.

It worked. She felt her heart rate slow to a more normal pace, felt the tremors ease down, the pain dissipate, until it had passed her, the tide gone out, and she remained a rock on the coast, steady and firm. She took a drink of water from cupped hands, splashed a bit more on her face before drying herself off.

She opened the door, spying everyone waiting, and waved to them with a warm grin. There was still much more to see and do.


	10. Chapter 10 - How Many Days Have Gone By?

Wooo, another update! Big thanks for sticking with this, I realize that I'm not a fast writer and have a horribly inconsistent update schedule, but I'm glad that some of you enjoy this enough to continue reading. I appreciate all of the comments and those of you following along, so please continue to bear with me! Also, I'll try to speed up haha.

Chapter 10 – How Many Days Have Gone By?

There was still a twinge of pain in her eyes as Frisk rejoined her family, waving off any concern as just needing a restroom break. You know, human things. But she could see Alphys joining with some of the others in watching her from the corner of her eye, see the glint in her glasses. Frisk kept her cool, kept it loose; this day had been everything she'd dreamed it would be. And it wasn't even halfway done yet!

"EXCELLENT, YOU'RE BACK! WHERE ARE WE OFF TO NEXT?" Papyrus asked once the girl had fallen in step. Toriel had the map out, holding it low enough for Frisk to see. Frisk hummed to herself as she looked it over, considering. She wanted something that would wow Undyne, something she would really enjoy. But what?

Ah! Perfect. With an excited grin, Frisk pointed at the shark exhibit. Undyne would be sure to love it! And Frisk would just bury herself in between Mom and D . . . Asgore where it was safe! A perfect plan.

"All right, dearest. Then, we should go . . ."

"THAT WAY!" Papyrus pointed at a wooden shed.

"No, that's maintenance, Papyrus," Toriel corrected him gently before pointing down the path with the teeth painted on. "This way!"

"Oooh yeah, I got a good feeling . . ." Undyne cackled upon seeing the shark tooth path. Frisk was glad she was excited; she wanted them all to be having a wonderful time. "Alphys! Papyrus! Get those feet moving!"

"Oh my," Mettaton sighed. "I wonder what's got her so worked up."

"eh. knowing her it could be anyfin," Sans shrugged. "you seem p excited yourself, kid."

"You'll see," was all Frisk said with a wink.

The exhibit was even more than Frisk had imagined it would be: above the automatic door entrance (which was made up to look like the open maw of a big white shark) was a large and beautiful mural depicting all kinds of the aquatic predators in the deep sea. The building itself was actually pretty small; how did they fit all of those big sharks in such a small space?

The answer came when they'd entered the belly of the beast, so to speak, to find escalators taking them down underground, fluorescent lights illuminating their descent. The mural from the outside continued on the walls below, scenes of sharks on the ocean floor and around coral reefs (that's what they were called, right?).

The lights dimmed as they reached the bottom, finally revealing the great secret of the sharks: the exhibit was, in fact, a giant tunnel under the ground that went through the shark tanks, the marine creatures swimming over and around them.

"NGAAAAAAH! THIS IS AWESOME!" Undyne cried out in approval, grabbing Alphys and Papyrus in an adrenaline-fueled frenzy and hurtling onto the moving sidewalk. Alphys was starting to turn a peculiar shade of red, though Frisk was guessing it wasn't embarassment (she was . . . impressed?) and Papyrus seemed to just be enjoying the ride. "Power! Ferocity! BIGGITUDE! This is what I was waiting for!"

"OOOOOOOOOHHH YESSS!" Mettaton agreed, leaping after them with a fabulous pose and a sudden strobe of laser lights that could only have come from his body (right?). "Such grace, such majesty! This will be perfect for my next video!"

Frisk was excited that they were excited; they were starting to get looks from some of the other people inside, causing Toriel to nudge Asgore and send him after them, but Frisk was glad that everyone was having such a good time. As she and Toriel stepped onto the moving sidewalk, she pushed herself in closer to her mother, delighting in the clean fragrance of her fur and the warm comfort of her embrace. Could that she just remain wrapped in those arms, safe and secure.

Were it so easy.

But, for now, it was more than enough. Toriel matched Frisk's grin with one of her own, her white fur turning blue as the light shone through the water above. Frisk thought she looked radiant and beautiful.

Informational placards lined the walkways just below the handrails, highlighting all of the different species that made their home in the tunnel. There were too many for Frisk to take a full inventory, but some notable ones that she saw were a hammerhead (so strange!) swimming behind a nurse shark (Frisk's favorite). A trio of makos seemed to follow them down the tunnel, and Undyne seemed to find a soulmate in the adolescent great white (evidently the aquarium was very proud of that shark). Maybe the strongest had a way of picking each other out? There was a goblin shark that seemed quite skittish, keeping to itself.

Frisk wondered why there wasn't a whale shark, but after taking a bit to think it over, realized that there was no way a whale shark would comfortably fit, so it was for the best.

One time, Frisk was following the makos that were following them when she turned her head and noticed that there was a person swimming in the tanks with the sharks! She pointed it out with a stunned look on her face, the rest turning with various expressions; Toriel and Asgore's faces seemed to match Frisk's, which seemed oddly appropriate, and Papyrus reacted a bit over-the-top, clinging to Sans as if that would make it better. The diver seemed to be fine, however, waving at them when he'd (she?) noticed, and they waved back, Undyne the most enthusiastically.

"Oh man, you can get a job being a shark wrestler?! I'm in!" Frisk didn't think he was wrestling them, but who was she to say?

As the shark tunnel came to an end, the moving sidewalk did as well, Frisk and the rest stepping off before taking the escalator that led up, back to the surface and the sun (the symbolism was not lost on Frisk). Undyne and Papyrus still hadn't stopped gushing about the sharks, and Mettaton was wholly engrossed in describing his plans for his next hit music video, though Frisk was pretty sure that he would not be allowed to "coat them in MTT-Brand neon glitter lights." Just a hunch.

"My, so many kinds of animals out here on the surface!" Asgore chuckled. "One wonders how they could keep track of them all. What a wondrous world we live in."

Frisk wanted to agree; she did, to an extent. She loved life and the world, was grateful for all of the blessings she'd been given. But there were many evils in the world as well. Frisk would protect her family from them; she would protect everyone. No one else would have to see the ugliness that hid in the souls of Men.

"hey, uh, anyone else up for some grub?" Sans asked. Frisk's eyes snapped to him; he met hers for a brief moment before looking around at the others. He'd been staring at her.

Or had she been the one that was staring?

Maybe she'd made a face? Either way, she couldn't deny the growing ache of hunger, though she wasn't really comfortable admitting it, and she'd never been one to complain. Old habits, she supposed.

"Well, it's a little after half past noon, so I think a lunch break sounds like a wonderful idea," Toriel answered.

"TO THE FOOD COURT!" Papyrus bellowed, beckoning them onwards to hot dogs . . . and glory! Well, maybe not glory, but definitely the former.

It wasn't too far away, only a few minutes walk, open tables surrounded by various decorated food stalls and stands. Quite the crowd had gathered, many of the other people evidently of the same mind as them, and as Frisk passed by a covered gazebo, she heard voices call out to them.

"Oh my God, it's Mettaton!"

"Mettaton, Mettaton!"

"He's with Ambassador Frisk, so cool!"

Frisk flinched a little at her name before turning to see a group of kids clamoring from the gazebo. A large group, in fact, around tables with balloons and plates of cake, conical and colorful hats atop their heads.

Oh. A birthday party.

They came running over, parents following with apologies on their faces. Frisk waved them off with a smile; they were just little kids, both humans and monsters, maybe eight to ten years old, excited and energetic. She was more than happy to help make their day a little better, though why they cared about her she wasn't sure.

Mettaton was enthused to entertain his fans, one leg ostentatiously in the air as he signed autographs for the line forming in front of him.

Many of the kids, especially the monsters, came to Frisk next (some first), the birthday girl in particular heading straight for her. She had a gap in her grin, freckles dotting her face, with a blonde ponytail that bounced with her skip-steps.

As she approached, she started to slow down, arms scrunched in a shy shuffle. Frisk beckoned her over with a patient smile and a wave of the hand, watching as the girl closed the gap.

In the past, she might have felt different. No, she would have. She remembered when she was a child, out alone with her father when he was out running errands of some kind. He had left her to wait at a bench next to a park as he went into one of his usual places, and she sat there, and did as she was told. Farah had been sick, and he didn't want two sick kids to deal with, so she sat at the bench.

A ball had landed next to Frisk, and a little boy had run up and asked for it back. Frisk remembered everything about that scene: the yellow star on the blue ball, the throbbing sting of the welt on her cheek, the kid's Winnie the Pooh shirt, the cries of kids at play, the smell of the hot dog cart across the street, and the overwhelming desire to hurt that small boy. To push him and beat him until he wasn't happy anymore, just like her. To be the one in control for a change.

She hadn't, of course. She didn't want to hurt anyone. But her hands had been shaking as she rolled the ball back to him.

But now she was different; she was older and had matured, the childish extremes behind her, and she accepted the birthday girl's pen and paper with the same patient smile as before. She'd grown beyond such petty thoughts; she had weathered them, and in their wake was only her.

"You're – you're my hero, Amb . . . Ambass . . . Frisk!" The girl said, bright green eyes flashing.

"Oh?" Frisk cocked her head. "What for?"

"You saved the monsters, and you're so cool and strong and brave! I wanna be an ambasser like you and help my friends too!" How sweet!

"What's your name?" Frisk hummed.

"Heather!"

"Well, Heather," Frisk wrote the sweetheart a message. "Anything I could do, you can do too. I believe you can do great things."

"Wow! Really?!" Frisk could practically see the stars in her eyes.

"Really," Frisk nodded, handing the pen and paper back to her with another smile and a pat on the head. Heather looked at the autograph:

 _Hold on to your dreams and stay determined, Heather!_

 _-Frisk_

"Thank you, thank you!" She shouted, leaping at Frisk in a hug.

"Of course," Frisk blinked once before hugging her back, the girl running off to her parents as the next one came up, a Madjick.

"You're so cool! Can I have your autograph, please?"

It continued like that for around half an hour before the last kid ran (a monster) ran back to the party, leaving Frisk and Mettaton to rejoin the others who had waited quite patiently for them.

"I must say, darling, you're quite good with kids!" Mettaton winked.

"hope that wasn't too bothersome, but that was nice of ya, kiddo," Sans patted her on the back.

"Heh heh," Frisk scratched her cheek. "Well, they're little kids, you know?"

"uh, whaddaya mean by that one?" Sans asked, turning to fully face her. His voice seemed to grow more serious, much to Frisk's confusion. He glanced over at Toriel, who shrugged back at him. Frisk shrugged too. "you're a kid too, maybe a year older than those squirts," he continued.

"Hmm," Frisk shrugged again, looking at her hand. It was soft and pale, her fingers thin and slender, but it was . . . small. How long had it been so small? Oh, that's right. She was a child, still, wasn't she? What a strange notion. "So I am."

She glanced back at Sans as she spoke, keeping her head in place and moving only her eyes, the skeleton now decidedly avoiding her gaze. In fact, it felt like everyone was. Staring at her back, thinking what, she wondered? It felt like a shadow of a memory from far, far ago. She took in a deep breath through her nose, suddenly quite . . . tired. Not sleepy, but just . . . spread thin. Her eyes hurt again, that familiar stabbing weight that pushed deep into the recesses of her cranium.

Why was she here?

She took a couple steps forward, thinking. Oh, that was right. Lunch. They were here for lunch! Of course, of course. How silly of her!

She turned to see that the others hadn't followed, Undyne and Alphys still talking with Mettaton, the rest looking among themselves and at her. Oops! She'd taken off without them. She hurried back to her favorite spot next to Mom, taking her paw in her hand. Toriel squeezed her back.

"Frisk, why don't we go take a look at what we've got available?" Toriel asked her, her hand on her back to shepherd her along. Frisk nodded her head in agreement. "Asgore, perhaps you and Sans could clear off one of those picnic tables for us?"

"Of course," Asgore put a hand on Frisk's shoulder, holding for a moment before turning to head off with Sans. "Come, let's get things ready for the rest!"

" . . . sure thing, boss," Sans shrugged. Frisk could only imagine that Asgore would end up doing most of it, but they probably only had to wipe off crumbs or something.

As Undyne, Alphys, Papyrus, and Mettaton went off to the far side of the food court, Toriel and Frisk broke off separate to check out the food vendors nearby. Frisk wasn't sure why they needed two groups, but they covered more ground this way, so that worked. Plus, she got to stay with Mom, so she was happy.

"Are you enjoying your day so far, my child?" Toriel asked gently, looking down at her. Frisk craned her neck up to look at her as she nodded eagerly in response, clutching her tight.

"Uh huh. I love it. And . . . I love you!"

Toriel knelt down, grasping her and holding her tight, her face pressed into Frisk's hair. She was warm and wonderful and engulfed her like a blanket.

"And I love you too, dear. So much," Toriel gave her head a kiss. It made Frisk feel all wiggly inside. "I'm so glad you're having a good time. And you know, you can always tell me if something is the matter. I'm always here for you, and you can tell me anything."

What . . . was spurring this? Had she said something? Had someone said something _to_ her? Was Frisk acting ungrateful, or like she wasn't enjoying the trip? What had she done wrong?

No, now Frisk was acting silly. Toriel was just worrying about her because she . . . cared. She really cared. She just wanted to make sure she was all right. Just like Frisk wanted to make sure everyone could stay happy forever.

"I know," Frisk whispered. "Thank you." Toriel was . . . there, for her. And Frisk would always be there for her. For everyone. And maybe, one day, she could truly open up to her. Maybe one day, she could say all of the things that she wanted to say but couldn't, all of the words that twisted and coiled in her throat, all poison and snakes. Maybe one day, she could lay bare all of the labyrinthine lies that she wove around herself.

But she couldn't just now.

They stayed there together, heartbeats in sync, a pulse in the wind. And then Toriel nodded, giving her one last kiss with some more sweet words before rising back to her feet and taking Frisk's hand in hers.

"All right, dearest. Now, what shall we get to eat?"


	11. Side Story 1 - First of Many

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! In celebration of the season, I figured I'd do a little holiday update for both of my stories, so enjoy this little side chapter. It doesn't fit in chronologically, and to be honest I'm not sure where it will take place in the grand scheme of the story, but for now, it is certainly well after the previous chapters. Frisk deserves some yuletide cheer, and so do all of you, so hope your holiday season is blessed and joyful!

Side Story 1: The First of Many

The fireplace popped and crackled with an effervescent light that seemed positively radiant (and, dare she say it, magical), warm pools of light playing across the two of them, Frisk and Toriel, mother and daughter. The firelight danced across them, Toriel in her great chair, a book in her hand (101 Facts about Sea Snails! Frisk had gotten it for her some time ago when they'd gone to the Aquarium) and eyeglasses perched upon her face (Frisk thought they made her look more elegant). Frisk sat snug in her lap, pressed against her and with a book of her own, though hers was much dryer (case files for Supreme Court cases in the past to better prepare her to defend monsterkind's rights in the future. Couldn't hurt, right?)

There was a large and beautiful Christmas tree set up in the corner of the room opposite the fireplace, fully decorated with a variety of ornaments that perfectly reflected on those that had gathered to decorate it; bone lights and racecars, glowing spears and scales, perfectly timed rainbow LEDs, flower ornaments (Frisk forgot what kind, but they were purple and white), and obscene amounts of glitter and tinsel. And up at the top, Frisk and Toriel's contribution: a little white angel, holding a star. It had been a team effort, Toriel lifting Frisk up to place the treetopper (with a little blue magic help from Sans, just in case!) It was gorgeous in the corner, the light from the fire dancing off of the ornaments and mingling with the bright artificial glow of the little rainbow strings that wrapped around it. The entire house had been decorated and fileld with Christmas cheer, but the tree was definitely the highlight.

When Asgore had first brought the tree out front, Frisk had been confused. And when he'd said that he was bringing it in for them as their Christmas tree, she'd found herself unable to stop the tears from pouring from her eyes, had grabbed him and held him tight and thanked him, then did the same when Toriel came out. There had been a lot of misty eyes.

It was December 24th, Christmas Eve. Tomorrow would be her first real Christmas, with her family. She was all ready; she'd gotten what had to be the perfect gifts for everyone. Papyrus was getting a set of NASCAR oven mitts and pot holders, and Sans was getting a pair of what had to be the comfiest slippers ever made. Frisk had found a Mew Mew Kissy Kitty hoodie for Alphys, and Undyne was getting a slick new helmet for her motorcycle, custom painted and made up to look like her old Guard helmet (top ratings for safety!). For Asgore, she'd found some special imported Chinese Hibiscus bulbs that would be perfect for his garden, and for Mettaton she'd gotten this DVD set of the history of pop music (she figured he'd want to know all about human entertainment culture). And of course, she hadn't forgotten about Farah and Chara. She'd gotten Farah a stuffed dove to go with the penguin from the Aquarium, and for Chara, she'd found an interwoven heart locket that just felt right.

Toriel's had been the hardest; what to get that could be good enough? It had to be more than perfect for Mom. She'd looked around for some time, unsure, before deciding that something storebought just wouldn't work. Not for Mom.

Instead, she'd spent hours creating a memory scrapbook, pasting in pictures from their many months together on the surface combined with little bits and pieces from the Underground; a little chunk of the Ruins, letters she'd written, notes she'd placed, all of these special moments that made Toriel the most important person in the world to Frisk. Frisk was afraid that she wasn't able to convey her feelings well; she kept so much bottled in, even now. She wanted Toriel to know how special she was, how much she loved her (which was why she wrote "I LOVE YOU MOM" in big block letters on the cover of the scrapbook). How she was the greatest and brightened every room and every day.

It had been a lot of work, but Frisk was happy with how it had turned out. Now all that was left was to wait for her to open it tomorrow morning. She could hardly wait!

She snuggled in closer to Toriel, looking up at her as she read about the lifecycle of the sea snail. Toriel noticed her and looked down, that wonderful smile on her face.

"Hello dearest," Toriel set her book aside, lifting Frisk up and spinning her to face her head-on. "So, are you all ready for tomorrow?" Frisk nodded yes. "Are you excited?" A more enthusiastic nod yes. "Wonderful! And we've got our milk and cookies out for Santa, so he should be more than happy when he comes down the stairs! Or window, or was it the chimney . . . ?" Toriel trailed off. Frisk shrugged; she knew about as much about Christmas traditions as the monsters, if not less; she'd never celebrated Christmas before (not properly, at least), and only knew the name of Rudolph from that song on the radio sometimes.

She did know that "Santa" was, in fact, Asgore (finding the costume in his room in New Home was a bit of a giveaway), but she was aware enough to know that the fantasy was very special to the others (Papyrus certainly believed in the magical saint), and it was fun and whimsical, so she happily played along. And besides, baking cookies for Asgore was never a problem! Especially when they got to eat most of them first.

"Well, regardless, everything is all set, except for one little thing," Toriel poked Frisk's nose as she finished. "You!"

Frisk pulled away with a giggle and a "nooo!" but was snatched up by Toriel, cradled in her arms.

"Come now, off to bed you go! I didn't realize how late it had gotten, but we wouldn't want to keep Santa waiting, now, would we?"

Frisk supposed she was right, fighting back a yawn; it really was late. What time was it? She glanced over at the clock as Toriel carried her upstairs: 12:03. Officially December 25th.

"Mom?" Frisk whispered, leaning up to reach Toriel's face.

"Yes, Frisk?"

"Merry Christmas. I love you," she kissed her mother on the cheek.

"Merry Christmas to you, my love."


	12. Chapter 11 - I Want to Stay With You

Hey so I actually finished this like two weeks ago and kept going with the next one and forgot to upload this one. Sorry about that.

Chapter 11 – I Want to Stay With You

"So, what shallot be? Hee hee," Toriel chuckled to herself at her own little wordplay as they looked through the many myriad of options available to them. As suspexted, there was a hot dog stand, named "Sea Dogs" (not very creative . . .) right next to a storefront made up to look like an old diner, serving "All-American All-Stars" like burgers, fries, pizza, and milkshakes (but not hot dogs? Huh).

There was a lot of junk food around: big, salted pretzels and nacho chips with a cheese sauce, cotton candy and funnel cakes and churros (the only reason Frisk knew what any of these things were was because of the cartoony festival signs labeling each one of them). Frisk was a bit curious if they were as good as they looked, but she figured they probably all needed real food before sweets (although, given the prevalence of sweets in the Underground, maybe it was real food to them?). And besides, Frisk was uncomfortable getting things like treats for herself; for others, absolutely, but not for herself. She decided to keep looking.

There was a place for fried chicken and chicken sandwiches, which sounded pretty good, and there was also a stand decorated with jellyfish (so cool!) selling peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, which was cute but seemed more for little kids . . . oh, right. She had to stop doing that.

They paced together for a time, taking in all of the sights and smells and weighting their options before finally deciding on trying corn dogs, a tried-and-true favorite (or at least, according to Toriel). Their choice made, Frisk and Toriel went back to the sea of blue picnic tables, easily spotting theirs due to the large pair of horns sticking out from the crowd, and relayed their findings to the others, holding the table now so that the rest could all go and get their food (quite enthusiastically, Frisk noticed). She sat down and waiting for them to come back before she started eating; she would have felt bad to begin without them.

They all chatted with each other as they ate, discussing everything they'd seen thus far, from the stingrays (so cute!) to the jellyfish (so cool!) and the eels and sharks (a little scary). Frisk didn't contribute much to the conversation other than smiles and enthusiastic nods; while she certainly loved hearing her friends have fun and laugh, and enjoyed the break from using her voice (still quite taxing), she was very much so focused on her wonderfully greasy and likely unhealthy lunch (Grillby would have been proud). It was so good! She almost felt guilty about how much she was enjoying herself, both her meal and the day. After all she'd done, she was here, and Farah was . . .

Waiting for her. She was waiting. And that's . . . that's all there was to it.

Oh, Mom was asking her something. Something about more? Oh, did she want anymore? Frisk shook her head and waved her off with a grin: _I'm good, thank you._ Frisk didn't eat much; she was used to it. Before, some of the others used to fret about her weight, worrying over how small she was, though Frisk personally didn't see what the concern was. Toriel still worried, as did Sans and Papyrus, though Frisk was sure the former was only at Mom's insistence. Papyrus wanted everyone to eat and eat and eat, the big sweetheart.

Speaking of, Papyrus was currently raving about her and Mettaton (more so the latter; Papyrus was, and would likely always be, still absolutely starstruck).

" . . . BOTH SO COOL!"

"I'll say!" Undyne slapped Frisk on the back and gave Mettaton a hearty punch on the robot arm. Frisk couldn't help but flinch this time, but felt she masked it well with a fake cough. Honestly, the praise was a bit embarassing, and Frisk found herself blushing a little as well.

"But man, who'd have thought you could have parties here too! We should've had your birthday here, hon!" Undyne turned her violent affections to her girlfriend next, a sharp elbow prodding the scientist.

"Oh, w-well, I don't know about that," Alphys blushed herself. Her birthday had been last month; they'd planned a relatively private get-together, just Alphys' closest friends and colleagues (Frisk knew most of them, through either visits or official business, but some of the science people were unknown to her). Frisk was very much out of the loop for that; she wouldn't even know where to begin with planning something like a party. Thankfully, Undyne and Asgore were experts at it, and Alphys liked her gift (a Periodic Table bracelet; Frisk had hoped she'd like something a little more . . . science-y). "I was more than happy with, uh, our little shindig." Frisk heard her whispering to Undyne something about if that was the right word but shifted her attention to Papyrus after he began to speak up.

"WELL, WE COULD HAVE THE NEXT ONE HERE! OR CLOSE TO HERE! LIKE MAYBE THAT TABLE INSTEAD!" The tall skeleton exclaimed, pointing at an empty table. "AND THE NEXT ONE WOULD BE . . ." He began scanning the group, one hand cradling his chin. "HMMM . . . ACTUALLY, I JUST REALIZED I DON'T KNOW YOUR BIRTHDAY, FRISK. HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?"

Frisk felt a lump form in the pit of her stomach that she couldn't quite swallow down.

"hey, yeah," Sans added. "you never told us, kiddo."

They had never asked. No one had. Frisk would have preferred it stay that way.

"Well, spill it, punk!" Undyne leaned in, sharp teeth spread wide in one of her signature smiles, but at that moment, Frisk couldn't help but think it predatory. She stared ahead, silent, until she simply shrugged her shoulders.

" . . . uhh," Undyne backed off, a confused look on her face.

"Dear?" Toriel put a hand on her shoulder. It felt cold. Everything felt cold. She felt herself in a tunnel or a pit, or perhaps smothered by a shroud, filling her ears so that all she could hear was the scratching of her teeth.

"I don't know," Frisk eventually answered. They'd never been told, neither her nor Farah, and certainly no one had ever kept track. It hadn't been especially pressing back then. One day wasn't really any better than another, though some were certainly worse.

Birthdays were for other people to enjoy. They weren't for her. She was well aware of this fact.

"It's fine," Frisk added quickly, shaking her hands with a forced grin after seeing the stunned faces on everyone. Those sad eyes, judging her. She didn't want them pitying her. They'd already given her so much. Too much. "Really."

"BUT . . . BUT YOU'VE NEVER EVEN HAD A SINGLE BIRTHDAY PARTY!" Papyrus wailed and sputtered.

"But I have all of you!" Please, stop. Stop talking about this.

"My child . . ." Toriel leaned in, embracing her in a wide hug. Asgore was right next to her, a hand on her head, giving his support. "I'm so sorry for you, and for not asking before. You know you mean the world to us." Frisk was suddenly very . . . uncomfortable with the words of comfort and support coming from her family and friends. From the promises of great parties from Mettaton and Undyne, the reassurances of Alphys, the love of Mom and Asgore. It felt wrong, somehow. No, that wasn't it.

It was Frisk who was wrong.

"so why didn't you let us know? and why don't you know your own birthday, kid?" Sans' eyes were narrowed to sharp points, and for a moment Frisk couldn't tell if there was worry or malice in his voice. Or both. Frisk couldn't control the shiver that ran through her either way. Was she still terrified so by those eyes?

It didn't matter. Frisk didn't want to think of why. Didn't want to think of a different time, in a different home. Didn't want to remember that night, or any of a thousand others. Didn't want to feel the burns or the welts and bruises and cuts and beatings. Didn't want to feel her heart pounding so hard in her chest, each pulse of blood in her veins a flash of fear and pain, didn't want to feel the scratching of thorns and the mind-numbing fear and panic and the pounding of her legs and the sudden drop –

" . . . I would like to talk about something else, please," she whispered. Her voice carried despite the quiet, silencing the others. It looked like Sans was going to say something, but he was cut off by Alphys suggesting that they continue with their day, looking to Frisk for something. Confirmation?

Mettaton wholeheartedly agreed after a second, and Frisk nodded her head in agreement as well; they were all finished eating, and Frisk was glad for the escape, though she felt Sans was going to pursue this later. He never forgot, after all. He was still holding onto that moment in Mrs. Margaret's, when her sleeve was rolled up too far, when he _saw_ the shame and the scars that marked her as a failure. Was he gathering them to use against her?

She hoped not. She wanted to leave all of that buried, never think of it again. Ignore it all. All except Farah, of course.

But keep the focus on the present.

Toriel was going to voice a protest (or that's what it looked like to Frisk, at least) before being persuaded by Asgore. She shot Frisk a worried look, speaking a thousand words with her eyes. Frisk took her hand in hers, squeezed it hard with a wide grin, pressed her face into her side with an "I love you."

She wanted to be here, with them. Not back there with him.


	13. Chapter 12 - It Glimmers like Gold

I'm out of funny things to say at the start so I'll just say thanks for everyone still following and reading when I'm so abominably slow at writing

Chapter 12 - It Glimmers like Gold

The next stop for the day were the freshwater aquariums. Frisk knew that freshwater meant bodies of water like rivers and lakes, as opposed to saltwater like oceans, so some of the fish in there would be ones that were swimming in the nearby creeks and streams, but she'd never really gotten a good look, only glimpses when they occasionally jumped out of the water. It was going to be exciting to see what her nautical neighbors looked like!

Papyrus all-too-readily agreed after Frisk had explained what they would find inside; he and Sans had gone on a brotherly camping trip soon after coming to the Surface, just the two of them against the wilderness . . . or at least, the forest behind their house. It had only been for a few days, but they'd had a blast together, from what they'd said (and Frisk may have checked in on them once or twice. Just to be safe!). Sans' favorite part was napping under the stars, while Papyrus had loved hiking and fishing. He wanted to see what he'd attempted (unsuccessfully, as he hadn't actually had a hook as that would be mean) to catch!

The freshwater aquariums were much nicer, more comfortable than their saltwater sisters. While the saltwater aquariums had been dark and mysterious, here, the rooms were brightly lit, the displays more colorful and the fish smaller and much less intimidating. They'd started with Northeastern United States habitats, miniature reproductions of ecosystems around them. There were large and smallmouth bass, perch and rainbow trout (Frisk found herself partial to these ones on name alone), bluegills and sunfish; even frogs and tadpoles had a little exhibit. Unlike the bombastic display of the ocean fish, these ones were homey and pleasant . . .

. . . that was the best way to describe Toriel's home. The concept was utterly foreign to Frisk, and the sheer safety of the house next to the old tree put Frisk on edge.

It was too good to be true; something had to be wrong here.

Chara had disagreed; she'd been through here before, the first time, and said this was how it should be. Frisk hadn't been awake yet, didn't see what . . . happened to Toriel. But she knew what she'd done, what she was responsible for.

Chara seemed to have more of a connection here than just having passed through it before. But, whatever it was, she didn't want to talk about it. That was fine; Frisk understood. She didn't want to talk about her life either.

Frisk left the cozy little room Toriel had lent her, heading back down the hallway and passing the staircase (wonder where it leads?) to find Toriel sitting in a big cushy chair by a fireplace, reading glasses on as she gazed at a book, though Frisk couldn't make out what (" _ **Snail facts."**_ _"_ _Oh. Thanks.")._ Bookcases lined the wall and Frisk could see what looked tobe the kitched peeking from the doorway. She thought she could smell something baking; it was sweet, extraordinarily sweet, almost overwhelming. It looked . . . eerily like Asgore's house, though she never actually saw what Asgore looked like.

"Oh, hello, my child," Toriel glanced up, noticing Frisk hovering at the edge of the room, where it was safe. She looked nice with glasses on. When Frisk had first met Toriel, she had been in awe. Toriel was like some fairytale character. Not because of how she looked, but how she acted, how she presented herself. How she'd actually _helped_ Frisk, when she was certain she'd be killed despite Chara's insistence. Toriel had saved her, majestic and wonderful, and had led her through the ruins.

Frisk had never had her hand held by anyone but Farah before. It . . . was nice.

Toriel was nice. She was kind and warm and brave. Frisk didn't even mean to call her "mom," didn't know why it just slipped out; but Toriel was accepting of that, too. She was perfect. Which was why she was sure something would ruin things soon. It would probably be her.

"Are you hungry, dear? The pie should be just about cool." Frisk hadn't really noticed, but now that she mentioned it, her stomach was growling and gurgling. When had she last eaten? Back at the resort? She'd had something there. Did she have anything after, at the Judg – no. Not that. But she'd gone back. Started over. So the _real_ last time would have been . . . been . . .

Frisk just nodded her head. Yes, she was hungry.

 _ **"**_ _ **Hey. You're fine. You've got me, right here. And this is your show now, cowboy,"**_ Chara reassured her in her head.

 _"_ _Right. Right."_

 _ **"**_ _ **We're doing it right this time. So let's keep our heads in the game."**_

That was the plan. Do it right this time. Or, as "right" as someone like her could.

"Come, take a seat at the table then, little one," Toriel closed her book and rose, setting her reading glasses on the arm of the chair. She pulled out one of the smaller wooden chairs at the dining table, motioning for Frisk to take a seat. The chair was ornate but not too much so, just the right amount. Frisk slowly, cautiously approached and climbed in; it was a bit big, but comfy. Toriel just smiled and pushed her in, saying she would be just a second.

 _"_ _Did we do this the . . . first time?"_ Frisk asked Chara. She didn't get a reply, but she could feel the answer.

 _"_ _Hey. Remember what you said. We're doing it right this time. I know it was hard for you. But . . . you've got me, too."_

She heard a sniffle. _**"Yeah. Thanks, Frisk."**_

 _"_ _Of course, partner."_

Although, who was Frisk to talk? A waste. A drain. Not worth the time or the attention. She needed to stick to the plan, get it right this time, find a way to help everyone. And then she'd leave them to their happiness and move on. Find a way to . . . to go back, like she'd done before, and save . . .

"Are you okay, my child? You look pale," Toriel frowned as she set a plate down in front of her. Frisk wiped off the cold sweat from her brow, swallowed down the lump in her throat. She . . . she couldn't think about that right now. About her, and . . . she pushed it back, far, far to the back. Little steps.

Frisk nodded to Toriel was a small grin: _I'm fine. Thank you._ She took a look down at the big slice of pie, the reality of it finally hitting her. The overwhelmingly strong aroma of cinnamon and . . . caramel? It was honey-sweet ( _ **" . . . butterscotch."**_ _"_ _Oh. Thanks!"_ ) and filled her nostrils, full and rich. She'd never smelled anything like it before. She took a look at it; it was big, so big, and the crust was flaky and the filling firm but gooey, spilling out a little and glistening in the warm ambient light of Toriel's home. Little sprinkles of powdered cinnamon adorned the top of the slice.

Frisk felt how wide her eyes were and blinked, reason struggling to take hold. This had to be a test, or a trick. There was no way this was all for her, or any of it for that matter. Toriel would hit her if she went to take a bite, or slap the fork out of her hand. Frisk knew how this worked.

 _ **"**_ _ **Toriel isn't like that,"**_ Chara scolded her, her voice full of reproach. _**"She worked hard and just wants you to enjoy it."**_

 _"_ _. . . really?"_

 _ **"**_ _ **Yeah. Try it! Her pies are really good, even though cinnamon isn't my favorite."**_

Well, Frisk trusted Chara, and Toriel _was_ really nice. She really didn't seem like the type who would do that. Hesitantly, Frisk picked up her fork, watching Toriel. She just sat across from her, hands around a cup of tea, and waved. Frisk scooped up some of the pie and took a bite, and was immediately assailed by the purity, the raw flavor. It was sweet, so sweet, but in a good way that reminded her of sneaking cookies with Farah when they thought they could get away with it. The crust was buttery and melted in her mouth, and the pie seemed to stick to her teeth, and she found that she didn't want to finish chewing, didn't want it to end.

"Oh, dear, what's wrong? Do you not like it?" Toriel rose from herchair, worry plastered on her face. Frisk reached up to find warm, wet tears falling from her cheeks, her lip trembling. She couldn't make them stop. This was . . . too good for her. She didn't deserve this. But . . .

"It's perfect," Frisk shook her head, wiping away her tears on her sleeve. It was the best thing she'd ever tasted. Her voice cracked slightly as she spoke, reassuring Toriel. "Thank you . . .

. . . mom," Frisk squeezed Toriel's hand.

"Hmm? What is it, Frisk?"

"Thank you," Frisk repeated. Or . . .wait, had she said anything? That was weird; she couldn't quite remember. She had a vague feeling, a memory of crying, though the ache in her head wasn't helping. Had it happened again?

"Oh, well, you're welcome, Frisk," Toriel gave her a pat on the head as she pushed open the exit doors. The sun outside was bright, and Frisk squinted to see through the glare as they left the freshwater tanks. Oh, right, that's why it was dark. Well, less bright; it wasn't as dark as the shark tunnel.

"Who k-knew that there were so m-many species right under our noses!" Alphys exclaimed, walking hand in hand with Undyne. Alphys always seemed excited to learn more about the surface, undoubtedly the scientific curiosity of a researcher.

"Yeah, but if only we had some of those sharks in our rivers . . ." Undyne mused. "Then I could wrassle 'em! Fuhuhu!"

"Well, _I'm_ just glad there's none of those dreadful piranhas to hurt my local fans!" Mettaton added in. Frisk must have missed them.

"maybe we should go fishing again sometime Pap, try n' find some of them."

"THAT'S A GREAT IDEA! WE CAN BRING FRISK ALONG, TOO!"

"yeah, it'll be a grand ol' time. you in, squirt?"

"Frisk nodded; she had never gone fishing before, but it sounded fun! Though she hoped it didn't hurt the poor fishies.

"Last exhibit of the day," Asgore pointed forward at the approaching building; it was painted a light blue and white, with a black and white sign at the top. "'Penguin Pond.' Let's hope we saved the 'coolest' for last! Hee hee hoo," Asgore chortled to himself. Even Sans groaned; that was low-hanging fruit.

Except to Frisk.

"What's a penguin?"

"You've never heard of one, before?"

Frisk shook her head.

"Well then, petal, we're about to find out!: Asgore wrapped a great big arm around her, leading her (and the rest of the group) inside.

It was cold, surprisingly, a chill rushing out from the second set of automatic doors. The sudden transition reminded Frisk of leaving the Ruins for Snowdin, though not quite as extreme. It was dark inside the Penguin Pond as well, a recurring theme. Probably to better see the fish in the tanks.

Walking down the ramp, Frisk was surprised to hear . . . honking? Fish didn't honk.

Or . . . did they?

What she found when she rounded the corner was somehow even more magical.

The floor lowered enough to be able to stand eye-level with a large tank of crystal-blue water that sat at the edge of a great snowscape, outcroppings of rock jutting into the small man-made lake to the backdrop of painted glaciers. What truly captivated Frisk, however, were the variety of black and white-feathered birds flapping and sliding around and diving into water in orderly lines. She watched in awe as they swam around before launching back onto the rocks and snow to waddle around together.

"Wow . . ." Frisk gaped, leaning in to get a better look. Imagine, birds that could swim like fish! She wondered why they didn't just fly out, but the placard nearby explained that penguins couldn't fly. How funny, that there were flying fish and swimming birds!

"Looks like we found something we knew about the Surface that you didn't, punk! Haw!" Undyne noogied Frisk, who squirmed and giggled in protest before returning her attentions back to the penguins.

"WHERE DID YOU LEARN OF THESE FEATHERED FISHBIRDS, UNDYNE?" Papyrus asked. Both Alphys and Sans answered at the exact same time: "Anime."

"knew it," Sans chuckled. "too predictable."

"Ah, look!" Asgore pointed over at one of the larger penguins that had just surfaced. It was tall, with a hooked beak, and bright yellow plumage around its neck. "An emperor penguin!" It walked over to the glass, staring over at Asgore as a second one approached Toriel. "Clearly, they recognize royalty," Asgore puffed his chest a little, while Toriel just sighed.

"WELL THEN, THAT MACARONI PENGUIN MUST BE UNDYNE BECAUSE IT'S ALWAYS SCOWLING – NYAAAH!"

Papyrus was cut off by a sudden kick to the back, though Frisk was too absorbed to notice the antics behind her. There were little chinstrap penguins that were sliding down a slope in-line, splashing into the water one after the other. Frisk wished Farah were here to see this; she loved birds like Frisk loved fish. She'd need to bring her here after . . . she went back for her.

She _would_ go back for her.


	14. Chapter 13 - To Be Strong as Iron

Gosh already nearing the end of May, who'd have thought right?

Chapter 14 – To Be Strong As Iron

But alas, all good things must come to an end, and so after some time spent with the penguins, they had to all bid a fond farewell and begin to make their way out, chatting all the while. The sun was only just beginning to dip, still bright in the sky but with that golden tint that sparkled and brought out just a little bit more color in the world.

It seemed to Frisk the perfect time to commemorate the magical day. So when they'd passed the large fountain in the main courtyard, with three dolphins playing with a ball and shooting water out of their spouts, Frisk pulled out her cell phone and waved to get everyone's attention, pointing over at the fountain and motioning for them to squeeze together. They'd understood right away, bunching up and squabbling and poking and punning, until they'd finally gotten themselves set up so everyone would fit (it was more difficult than you'd think, given the . . . variety of body sizes of monsters). Toriel and Asgore were in the back center, with Undyne and Mettaton (he refused to take any picture without posing on principle, so he needed extra space) and Alphys in front, holding her girlfriend's hand. Papyrus and Sans were next to Toriel, and in between Mom and Asgore, right next to Sans in the front row, was a spot saved just for Frisk!

She had thought that she would need to mess with the timer, but thankfully an elderly turtle monster that had been walking past (not Gerson, but a relative maybe? He had that same look in his eyes) was only too happy to take the picture for them, letting Frisk dash up and squeeze in. Asgore and Toriel both put their paws on her shoulders, warm grins looking down at her, and she craned her neck up to shoot them a smile in reply, one hand on Toriel's. She reached out to hold Sans' hand absentmindedly, remembering too late how he felt, but Sans just took it regardless, giving her a wink as his other hand rested in his pocket. Maybe she'd been wrong . . .? Or maybe he was just playing nice for everyone's sake. She shouldn't have put him in that spot. But . . . she was glad he had taken her hand, and she smiled at him, too. She loved all of her family, every one of them so much.

"All right boys and girls, say 'nice cream!'" The old turtle (his name was Tuttle) called out, snapping the picture with as the chorus of staggered replies rang out. He gave a contemplative nod at the finished product before handing Frisk his phone back, waving goodbye after she had thanked him and continuing on his way as they all gathered around to see the results. It was a nice picture, one that reminded Frisk of just how worth it everything had been, and after sending a copy to everyone else, they kept moving back towards the entrance gate, though Frisk's eyes lingered on the snapshot. She'd print this one out, too; one more wonderful memory for her desk.

There was one last stop, however, before they returned back to the Dolphin lot and the van (or truck) that brought them here. What was it? Why, the gift shop, of course! Frisk saw it and had wanted to get everyone something, a memento and a thank you. It helped that she'd made quite a bit of money from her work (it also helped that Asgore was such a good financial adviser!).

There was soft, calm music playing in the gift shop, all harps and harpsichords that did a very good job of evoking feelings of undersea wonder. There was certainly a lot to choose from: books (both informative and for coloring), stuffed animals, toys, bottles and bags, clothes, and other knick-knacks and odds and ends like magnets and keychains. The others spread out, though Toriel hovered close to Frisk at first, asking if she'd like anything. Frisk shook her head no; she was fine. She already had all she could ever need. Toriel acquiesced after a bit, giving her a pat on the head. She was still watching, though, always careful and protective, so Frisk would need to be sneaky to get her present.

Frisk perused through the shop, the small child thinking long and hard about what would be the perfect gifts for everyone, before finally nodding her head at her decisions. For Undyne, she got a stuffed great white shark, while Alphys got an anglerfish reading lamp (much cuter than the real thing). She'd picked out a little stingray for Papyrus to remind him of his little friend, and Sans got a clownfish (it seemed appropriate). Mettaton was tough, since she wasn't sure if magnets were bad for him (they were bad for computers, right?), so she went with a glittery snowglobe of the tropical fish exhibit to be safe. For Asgore, she got a great emperor penguin, as befit the King, and for Mom, what else but a cute kissing fish?

She wasn't quite finished, though. She had three more to get. A swordfish for Chara (it made her shiver, but Chara would appreciate it, she was sure) and an angelfish for Asriel. And finally, a chinstrap penguin for Farah. It was important to get them all something. And she'd definitely give hers to Farah, Someday.

Frisk had taken the longest, so everyone else was waiting outside by the bench, next to a big sign that had ads on one side and a big map on the other. She didn't see a map on her side, though, just an announcement about deals on season passes to the Aquarium. She waved at them, saw movement from the sign as she walked close, her eyes flicked over to it, and there, staring her straight in the eyes, those dark gray orbs bearing down on her, there was her father.

The little girl fell to the ground, petrified, eyes wide and hands shaking, legs unable to support her and she wanted to cry out and scream for help but her throat was closed, only wordless gasps escaping quivering lips (quiet was better, quiet was safer, _stay quiet_ ) and she couldn't think, the blind fear and panic overruling reason until all she wanted to do was _get away, just get away this couldn't be happening and she could see him and her in the kitchen, broken glass everywhere and his hands were around her neck and she wasn't, just hang there and Frisk did_ _ **nothing –**_

Suddenly, she felt hands on her, voices around her, and she did the only thing she could do to get away, all reflex and instinct. The world turned to white and faded away, until it was but a pinprick in a sea of black, and she felt herself pulled through. Enclosed in the cocoon of time, her own sovereign world where no one could intrude.

She went back, and then she was back in the gift shop, bags in hand, ready to leave. She hadn't jumped far, a couple minutes back.

She almost broke down right there, but even as her insides tore up and her mind screamed and her scars burned, even as it felt like her tiny heart would burst from all the pressure, she held it together. Shaky, pitiful, but together.

Frisk glanced out the window; her family was there, on the bench. Others were coming and going, but her father was nowhere in sight. Had . . . she imagined it?

The advertisement sign flickered like last time, switching from the season pass. The other side popped up and she flinched despite herself, earning some concerned looks as she recoiled back.

 _Francis "Frank" Annandale and Associates, Attorneys at Law. Serving the Tri-county Area and defending your rights and your families for over 15 years._

He stared out from the poster, mouth set and face of stone, in his black suit with a red striped tie. Frisk had gotten him a tie, once, for Father's Day, a bright blue ones. He had a large collection, organized them, kept them clean and orderly. He'd never worn the one she'd gotten him, as far as she'd ever seen, but he hadn't yelled at them that day.

The picture of her father rotated back to the fun message about season passes. He wasn't here. Frisk had been set off by an advertisement. She didn't know if she should laugh or cry. Maybe both.

What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she just keep it together? Then she wouldn't need to reset. Why was she so broken?

Her eyes started to water with the frustration until she pushed it back, pushed it all down, so far down it could never come out. She had to be strong for them. She had to be unbreakable. Invincible. Everyone believed in her; she could never betray that trust (didn't you already do that, though?).

She had to be perfect. Sans' words rang in her ears; she had a responsibility to. Her special powers meant she couldn't make any mistakes. Even though she herself was a mistake, a screw-up, a coward and a failure. She had to be perfect. So perfect that none of her problems would ever slip through. Or else they'd know. Know she was weak.

And then they'd leave her. If they knew who she really was, they'd hate her. Like she hated herself. And Frisk . . . Frisk wouldn't be able to take that. She knew it was selfish, but she needed them to want her. To be there for her, to love her. Because she loved them. She'd do anything to make sure they were happy. It was the only thing she'd ever done right.

So she wiped away her tears, put on a fake smile, and walked out the doors right when the sign switched to the good side. By the time she'd reached her family, the smile wasn't even fake anymore.

"THERE SHE IS!"

"hey kiddo. you took a long time, we were getting you'd gotten lost and fell into the shark tank," Sans said. He'd been watching her approach. Had he been watching her inside, too?

She hadn't meant to worry them. But her bags should cheer them up!

Beaming, she passed out her thank-you gifts, receiving heaping helpings of praise, hugs, and noogies, until all that was left were Chara, Asriel, and Farah's gifts.

"You get yourself something, squirt?" Undyne pointed at the last bag. Frisk shook her head. "Friends."

"that's real thoughtful of you."

There was a funny tone to Sans' voice, an edge, but before Frisk could think about it or ask, Toriel and Asgore stepped forward. Asgore was holding something behind his back (he was pretending not to).

"Yes, you are very thoughtful, dear," Toriel rubbed Frisk's head (did she shoot Sans a look? No, must have been her imagination). "And loving, and kind. We have all had a wonderful day together."

"This is for you, petal. From your mother and me," Asgore revealed a huge stuffed jellyfish from behind his flower-covered back. It was pink and round, almost bursting at how cushy it was, and Frisk could only gape at it. She couldn't even fit her arms all the way around it! "We could tellyfish how much you like jellyfish! Ho hoo."

"Asgore," Toriel chortled despite herself, slapping him on the shoulder.

Frisk didn't even have words for it, just a joyful hum of pure, thankful bliss as she barreled into Toriel and Asgore, rubbing against them.

"We love you too, dear," Toriel and Asgore embraced her back.

"GROUP HUG!" Papyrus cried out, rushing to join in as Mettaton leapt forward with an "Ooooooh _yeeeesssss!"_

"Not without her bestie!" Undyne muscled her way into the circle. Alphys preferred to stay on the outside.

"SANS YOU GET IN HERE, TOO!" Papyrus reached out to pluck Sans and bring him into the hug zone ™.

"duuuuhhhh, ok boss."

Frisk basked in the warmth of her loved ones, all smooshed in together, enjoying and treasuring every second (even the elbowing and . . . biting?). Even after they finally broke apart, she remembered the feeling all the wa y to the parking lot, the entire car ride home. And that night, even as she woke ina cold sweat and a panic as the familiar nightmares took hold, she was reminded of that embrace in the warmth of her blankets, and drifted back to sleep.


	15. Chapter 14 - A Snowflake in Summer

So yeah it's me. Also I don't know if I like the POV change but I figured if I'm reviving this may as well try something new

Chapter 14 – A Snowflake on a Summer Night

Toriel ran her hand across the small child's head, her eyes lingering on that tiny chest rising and falling, on the strands of hair that crossed her pale face, on the eyes closed in rest at last, the fingers resting on the stuffed jellyfish; so frail, so small. So precious. If only her sleep were always this peaceful. If only Toriel could give her that.

Frisk had fallen asleep on the ride home from the Aquarium, and Toriel had carried her to her bed, the girl clinging to her robes with a sleepy whine as she was placed under the covers, leaving Toriel to step out from the bedroom and back to the living room. The significance was not lost on her; she remembered the first few weeks, when Frisk would not dare to fall asleep around others. When her head would nod, up and down, and her eyelids would grow heavy, and she would suddenly blink them awake before repeating the process because she did not want to fall asleep first. And now, she would rest her head on Toriel's shoulder, and she would feel her breath tickle her cheek.

The rest of the family was waiting out in the living room. Well, save for Alphys and Mettaton; the robot had needed to leave to recharge his batteries, though he was more than willing to stay. Alphys had forced him to, her concern rising to the occasion, and had returned home with him to ensure he would be okay. That left Sans, Papyrus, Asgore, and Undyne to discuss the matters that Toriel very much did not want to discuss.

But she would do it. For Frisk.

Toriel had wanted to start right away, but Sans had said to wait. For what, Toriel wasn't sure, but when she'd asked, he said to just trust him on this one. Wait an hour before getting down to business. So they'd settled in, turning the television on (though Toriel insisted they keep it low to avoid waking Frisk), chatting about the day, their plans for the week. The first day of school was fast approaching, so Toriel needed to get her classroom ready, while Undyne was apparently at a dead end in the kidnapping case; the man had gotten a very good lawyer and was tying up the court proceedings.

And that's when she heard the door squeak open, slowly, carefully. And Frisk had plodded out, heading to the bathroom, when she'd stopped and noticed them all in the living room.

" . . . mom?" She'd murmured, peering down the hall.

"Is everything all right, dear heart?" Toriel had asked, rising from her chair. And Frisk had hesitated for that briefest of moments before nodding her head. Just needed a glass of water. And Toriel had gotten her one, and walked her back to bed, and stayed with her and stroked her hair and kissed her head, because she knew that everything was not all right. And it was her job to make it so.

"she back asleep?" Sans asked, as Toriel returned to her chair.

"Yes," Toriel nodded with a smile. "How did you know to wait?"

"eh. I had a feeling," Sans shrugged. Toriel accepted it; Sans had become one of the people Toriel trusted most, and she knew his feelings for Frisk went beyond the goofy facade he liked to show. He had a genuine interest in her well-being (though to be fair, _everyone_ did; everyone loved the dear girl), though sometimes Toriel couldn't help but wonder just how he seemed to know so much.

"Heh. Startin' to sound like the pipsqueak," Undyne ribbed Sans.

"huh."

"Thank you all for staying. I realize it is late, but I felt that it was best that we discuss this now, and do not put it off any longer. I fear we may have already done so too much," Toriel said.

"Of course, Toriel. We are all here for you, and for Frisk," Asgore replied, though he'd stumbled a bit over the "for you" part. "And after some of what I saw today, I agree one hundred percent."

"Yeah, but I don't know if I like talkin' behind her back like this," Undyne scowled. "Besties don't do that. We should just get it all out in the open."

"FRISK . . . DOES NOT LIKE TO SHARE MUCH, I FEEL," Papyrus said. Undyne turned to him, scowl still there, but she reluctantly nodded her head in agreement. "I DO NOT KNOW WHY, THOUGH. SHE IS USUALLY SO GENEROUS AND THOUGHTFUL!"

"Frisk has . . . been through a lot," Toriel answered, a sad look in her eyes. While she still had yet to tell her much, the fragments she'd let drop did not paint a pretty picture.

"worse than you think," Sans replied, patting Toriel's hand as if to apologize. She looked over at him, concerned.

"The punk's tough as nails. She had to be, to get through all of us! Especially me!" Undyne pounded a fist to her chest. Toriel appreciated how she always stood up for Frisk, but now . . . "She's practically unstoppable!"

"no. not like that. it's . . ." Sans took in a deep breath, nodded to himself. "it's bad. I wanted to wait for the kid to bring it up, give her space, but this ain't the time or place for that anymore. heh. this is seriously a bad joke." Toriel wasn't sure what he meant by that, but by now her concern was starting to grow into something else. Much hotter, and much colder at the same time.

"Sans. What do you mean?"

"has the kid let you give her a bath yet?"

"What?" Toriel blinked, surprised by the sudden change of topic.

"y'know, a bubble bath. every squirt likes a bubble bath, yeah?"

"No, she hasn't. Frisk said she was shy. She likes her privacy when getting cleaned up."

"ever roll her sleeves up when coloring or cooking?"

"No. Why?"

"ever catch her scratching or biting? and did you see the look on her face when she left that gift shop? have you seen it before?"

"Sans," Asgore's voice boomed out, the jolly mirth from the day vacant and replaced with the authority that he once wielded as king. "What are you saying?"

"she's been hurt. she's been hurt real bad," He pointed a bony finger at his arm, tapping it. "I saw them the day she got hurt by that ass that took the Margaret kid. all over her arm. it's real messed up."

" . . . how bad?" Toriel whispered.

"scars. burns. cuts. worse. all up her arm. which probably means . . ."

"There's more," Asgore lifted a hand to his face, rubbing at his cheeks. His shoulders sagged, as if he felt the weight of the entire Underground and more back on him. Toriel knew because she felt the same.

"FRISK . . ." Papyrus was on the verge of tears; they all were, in their own ways. Undyne was, thankfully, restraining herself from an outburst, but looked about ready to murder someone. "I DON'T . . . I DON'T UNDERSTAND."

"What that punk was talking about earlier. Her birthday. You're not saying . . .!"

"i dunno. I've tried to talk with her about it. any attempt and she clams up. I didn't get a good look, but they looked old. not from the Underground. or at least, not all of them."

Toriel rose wordlessly, determined to make it to Frisk's room, when Asgore stuck out an arm.

"Asgore. Move."

"Toriel. Now isn't the time."

"That is _my child._ I . . . I have to know. What she's been through. I have to be there . . .!"

"I know, Toriel. I know." Toriel's voice kept rising, even as she struggled to avoid waking the child, but Asgore kept his voice firm, reassuring, and before long Toriel had gone from trying to push past to holding onto his arm.

"Who? Why? She is so . . . so kind, so generous, so _happy_. Who could even think to hurt a child like that?" Toriel asked no one in particular. But even as she said that, the reality of the situation was making itself known, crawling into her mind. Hadn't they all hurt her in some way? Chased her, scared her, threatened her. Fought her and tried to . . . but she'd forgiven all of them. Frisk had accepted all of them as family, loved them and cherished them, even after what they'd done. Who would do that?

Was Frisk really happy? Truly? What had Toriel missed, so wrapped up in all the tumult of the surface? She knew the child had troubles, knew she had bad dreams and trouble sleeping sometimes, but she had thought that she would come to her in due time. She would be patient and let Frisk come speak when she was ready. But this whole time, was she suffering in silence, alone?

"How could I have failed them so?"

"tori, _no,_ " Sans cut her off. "that kid in there? she _worships_ you. she worships the ground you walk on. she looks at you and sees the world. you're the best thing to ever happen to her, so don't go blaming yourself."

"If it really was someone she knew on the surface . . . if it really is abuse," There. Toriel's stomach dropped out from under her. That word. Asgore said it, the reality she didn't want to face. "Then we need to face the fact that we cannot put off any longer. We know nothing about Frisk's life before she fell, and she has resisted every attempt to explain it to us. We need to have a serious discussion about this with her, soon. Not tonight, of course. But we cannot put this off. Not if it puts Frisk at risk. What if they're still out there? What if they want her back?"

" _NO,"_ Toriel almost exploded. "I will _never_ allow that to happen!"

"it's been two months," Sans raised his hands, trying to placate Toriel. "i don't think that's the case, but the King's right. though I don't know how much good it'll do to force anything."

"How?! How did we not notice anything for two goddamned _months?!"_ Undyne punched the crap out of a pillow, the best she could do in the situation, and she was barely controlling her voice. "Sans, why didn't you say anything earlier if you knew?!"

" . . . you don't get it," Sans shook his head, something dark in his eyes. Toriel didn't know what she was seeing, looking at him. His fist clenched, and he looked about ready to say something, but unclenching and letting out a long sigh. "i had to promise the kid. I told her we could talk about it when she was ready. if you just barge in head-on with his kind of thing, it can make it worse."

"How can it be _worse?!_ Someone was hurting Frisk and we don't even know who! When I find them, I'm gonna rip them limb from limb!"

"NO," Papyrus suddenly interjected. He had been sitting, his head in his hands, silent. But now he picked up his head, and tears were streaming down his face. Sans immediately went to him, a hand on his knee. Papyrus looked over at him, thanks in his eyes, before continuing. "FRISK WOULDN'T WANT THAT. WE HAVE TO DO WHAT'S BEST FOR HER. WE HAVE TO BE HERE FOR HER. THAT'S WHAT SHE DID FOR US." That look again in Sans' eyes.

But before she could say anything about it, there was a sudden crash, something shattering, from down the hall. Specifically, halfway down the hall, in the room on the left.

Frisk's room.

Toriel was the first one there, already up and hurling the door open. What she heard shattered what remained of her heart.

Frisk was a quiet child. The most noise they'd usually make was a gasp or a squeal of joy; even their laughter was subdued, breaths that danced in the wind. Their sing-song voice soft and gentle, a note in the air when they'd hum to themselves.

The noise she'd made when the door opened was none of that. It was horrid and breathless, a scream that desperately wanted to stop itself but couldn't, a keening moan that scratched and halted the rest of the monsters at the door.

The bedside lamp was on the floor in pieces, the pillows scattered, the blankets nearly torn up and thrown everywhere. The bed was empty. But in the corner, wrapped up in the comforter, was the shaking form of a little girl. Every inch of her was trembling, her legs desperately pushing herself into the corner, and her eyes. Angels above, those hazel eyes were wide, so wide, a piercing stare that saw all of them and at the same time nothing, boring straight through them. Terrified. No, petrified would be better. Her hands were bent into clenched claws, the tendons in her hands pronounced, and her nails dug into the side of her head, scratching bloody lines that dripped onto the blanket.

"Frisk!" Toriel cried out, tears dampening her fur, but as she stepped into the room, wanting to race straight to her daughter's side, the begging started.

"Nonono, please, no! I'm sorry, _I'm sorryI'msorryI'msorry,_ " The shaking got worse as Frisk flinched even deeper into the blanket, her eyes squeezed shut and her fingers digging in deeper. "Please don't no, I didn't mean to, I'm sorry, _please."_

"Kid, it's okay! It's okay, calm down!" Undyne called out. "Their hands!"

"FRISK! PLEASE!"

Toriel plunged in, even as the pleading accelerated and the shaking worsened, kneeling down right next to the huddled mass and gently taking the reddened hands into her own.

" _I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryIwon'tpleasedon'tplease,_ " the stream continued, and Toriel pulled her in close, wrapping an arm around her, even as the tears fell from her face, humming a familiar lullaby and stroking her hair.

"Farah! Farah!" Frisk began crying out, now pressing into Toriel almost instinctually. "Where are you?! I'm so scared, _Farah_!"

By now, the rest of them had come closer for support, Asgore beside her. He shot a questioning look around, but was only met with shakes of the head; no one seemed to recognize the name. Except for Sans. He'd just gone still, the farthest back, still hovering near the doorframe.

"I want to go back . . .! I need to go back! Where . . . are you?" Frisk had started to settle down, but Sans just stared, his eyelights out and his sockets pitch black. He suddenly stepped forwards, joining the others, spurred into action.

"kiddo. stay with us here. I don't know what you're seeing, but we're here. you're not going anywhere, you're staying right here buddy."

"We're all right here for you. Mom's here for you," Toriel kept stroking her hair, hugging her close, until the child's mantra stopped. She blinked once, twice, her breathing hitched, the shakes still there but lessening, and she seemed to truly look around her, realize where she was.

And the first thing she focused on was Toriel's face, gazing down at her.

" _Mom_ ," Frisk suddenly grasped onto Toriel like she was a lifesaver and she was adrift at sea. She clung on for all she was worth, burying herself deeper, her face burrowing into the purple robe. "I . . ."

"Hush now. I'm here, dear heart."

"I love you. I love you."

"I love you so much, Frisk."

" . . . please don't leave me."

"Never."


End file.
